Discombobulate
by Swing Girl At Heart
Summary: Finn's been acting strangely, and it's so much worse than anyone thought.  Expect the Unexpected.
1. Prologue

**A/N: So, this is part of the _Expect The Unexpected_ series I'm working on, which is, frankly, exactly what it sounds like. As part of my everlasting quest to defy any and all possible cliches, something completely unfathomable occurs with one member of the Glee club in each fic of the series. The goal? To have each character (even Matt and Mike, poor underfed pups) so far out of their league, but still remain in character. This is installment number ten (wow!), but none of them are connected plot-wise, so there aren't any prequels you have to read for any of them. Some will be tragic, some scary, some mysterious, some humorous. Enough jabber - please enjoy!

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_Prologue_

It was nearly two in the morning when Will was startled out of a deep sleep by the incessant ringing of the telephone. Groggily, he fumbled to answer in coherent English. "…Hello?" Slowly, the sleep faded from his face, his eyes widening as he listened to the voice on the other end. He threw the covers back and stood up. "Just – just let him be. I'll be there as soon as I can, I promise."

It took him less than five minutes to throw on a jacket and pull his car onto the street, heading for the Lima suburbs as fast as the speed limit would let him, and it took him less than ten minutes to show up on the Hummels' front doorstep. Burt threw open the door almost immediately, looking harried. "Schuester," was his simple greeting.

"Hi. Where is he?"

"Downstairs, in the basement," Burt said, closing the door as Will entered the kitchen. Carole Hudson was sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes watery and exhausted. "Thank God you're here," she said when she saw him. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Schuester, I didn't know who else to call—"

"It's fine," he cut her off. "Just show me where he is."

She gestured her head towards the hallway. "First door on the left."

Burt squeezed her shoulder as they passed, Will heading down the steps first. When he reached the bottom, he found Kurt standing off to the side of the staircase, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest, his mouth pressed into a thin line, staring at the far corner of the room.

Will felt his stomach drop.

The white walls of the bedroom had been marred by chaotic times, dates, diagrams of the planetary orbits and constellations, musical note sequences that probably not even Mozart could have understood, snippets of philosophical theories by people Will had never heard of, mathematic equations for everything ranging from physics to chemistry, verb conjugation charts for at least six different languages – including Mandarin – and countless other nonsensical scribblings, all penned in black Sharpie from the ceiling to the floor. A few pieces of Kurt's meticulously arranged furniture had been overturned, the vanity mirror smashed on the floor where it had been tipped over to make more room on the wall.

And crouched in the corner, hastily scrawling even more words onto the wall, was Finn.

He was muttering to himself as he wrote, his hands shaking slightly and his arms streaked with black ink, a few splotches on his face. At some point a marker had cracked open or leaked and bled all over Finn's hands, which were stained black all over. He growled and crossed out whatever he'd been working on, starting anew on the wall beside it.

"He's been like this all night," Kurt said quietly, startling Will out of his temporary shock.

"All night?" Will echoed.

"Since about five," Burt replied in a low voice.

Will took a deep breath before approaching his student. "Finn?" he ventured. "Hey, buddy."

Finn's bloodshot eyes snapped up, meeting Will's for only a second before returning to his writing. "Hi," he said, his voice strained.

Will crouched next to him, peering at the complicated sequences of numbers and letters. "What are you working on?"

"The trajectory of Dysnomia around Eris," Finn answered flatly without looking up. He scrawled a few more numbers down and paused for a second, his marker hovering above the equation for only a moment before he crossed it out again with a frustrated huff and started yet again. "I can't get this damn thing right."

Will reached out a tentative hand and grasped Finn's shoulder. "It's okay to get it wrong, you know."

"No!" Finn snapped, making Will jump. He seemed to have surprised himself with the force in his own voice, though, and he relaxed, shaking his head. "No," he said, quieter. "I have— I have to get it right. I'm not stupid, I can do it."

"Nobody's saying you're stupid, Finn."

The quarterback didn't respond, and after a minute Will stood up and went back to where Finn's step-brother and -father were standing. "Has anything like this happened before?"

"Not this badly," Kurt said in an almost-whisper, keeping one eye on Finn as he spoke. "I mean, pretty much at the same level as what he's been doing in school and Glee, but I've never seen him like this. This is new."

"If he gets any worse, I'm calling the hospital," Burt said decisively.

Will was about to agree, but then Finn's voice cut him off, trembling like he was about to cry. "Mr. Schue?"

Will turned back around. Finn had stood up, his expression pinched as if he was in pain. He ran a blackened hand through his hair. "Yeah?" Will said.

"I…I can't sleep."

And then his knees buckled, and Finn crashed to the floor.

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**A/N: ****Please leave a review and tell me what you think of it. If you enjoyed the first chapter and are interested in the concept of this series, add me to Author Alert to be notified when the other installments in the series are posted. So far, all but Quinn's and Brad's installments have been posted - please check them out!  
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	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

Kurt had always enjoyed Thursdays. Not only did Glee club meet on Thursdays, but the 7-11 down the street opened late, which meant that the jocks were cut off from their morning slushie supply. The dumpsters were still an option, though, but if Kurt had to choose between the cup of sugared ice and the trash, he'd choose the trash. At least garbage bags were hardly ever painful. And this particular Thursday morning felt better than usual.

"What's got you acting so happy?" Finn asked, his eyebrows raised as Kurt strode into the kitchen, humming _Be Our Guest_ under his breath as he poured himself a massive cup of coffee.

Kurt smiled thoughtfully. "I suppose it could be that you stayed upstairs the entire night finishing your Shakespeare essay," he said.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Kurt cast him a pointed look. "You weren't snoring." He grinned at Finn's slightly offended expression as he took a gulp of coffee, sighing in content.

"I don't snore _that_ loudly, do I?"

"Yes, you do. And before you try to defend yourself, you try dreaming about earthquakes every night and see how you like it. My subconscious can only take so many natural disasters."

Finn chuckled and went back to reading the newspaper.

Wait.

Kurt did a double-take, his coffee momentarily forgotten. "Finn, are you reading the newspaper?"

"Um…yeah?"

Kurt's meticulously plucked brows shot up. "And…do you understand what you're reading?"

The tall boy laughed again. "Come on, man, that's uncalled for." He shrugged. "It's interesting."

Kurt peered over his shoulder. "Since when do you find the stock market interesting? Actually, let me rephrase that – since when do you find _anything_ other than the funnies interesting?"

"I dunno, since now."

"I never thought I'd be the dumb one, Finn, but you've baffled me."

"I think you just underestimated me is all," Finn said, flipping to the cinema listings.

Kurt gave his head a shake, wondering if Burt or Carole had slipped something into Finn's orange juice. "Do mine ears deceive me? Did Finn Hudson just use a six-syllable word…_correctly_?"

Finn looked thoughtful for a second. "What, underestimated? Oh, yeah, that is six syllables, isn't it? Huh."

"Who are you and what have you done with my stepbrother?"

"Very funny."

"Finn, all kidding aside, are you feeling all right?"

"Kurt, I'm fine, okay? I'm just reading the paper; you're reading too much into this."

Kurt sighed, downing the rest of his coffee and pouring a second cup. "Fine. Did you finish your essay?"

"Yep. Finished it at like eleven thirty."

"Eleven _thirty?_" Kurt echoed, his jaw dropping. "If you finished it that early, why on earth didn't you get some sleep?"

Finn shrugged, not looking up from the paper. "I dunno. Wasn't really tired."

"Finn, you're always tired."

"No, I'm not," Finn replied, just slightly irritated. "And don't bother reminding me about the Vitamin D incident; that was _one time_." He glanced at the clock. "We should get going."

* * *

"The essay was _coherent_," Kurt was insisting. It was lunchtime and Mercedes, Tina, and Artie were all looking at him as if they were trying to decide what size straitjacket he needed. "I looked it over in the car on the way to school to make sure he didn't have any typos or anything, and it was _good_. It was better than mine!"

"Do you think he was abducted by aliens?" Artie suggested.

"You read too many comic books, white boy," Mercedes chuckled. "I think Finn probably just got the essay online or something."

"That's what I thought, but Finn got all defensive when I asked him about it and said that he didn't need to cheat because he understood the material. So unless he's suddenly become an excellent liar in the last two days, he wrote the paper himself."

"He _understood_ the _material?_" Artie repeated. "I'm in his class, the paper was on _Twelfth Night_!"

"Guys, maybe Finn just decided to be a good student for once," Tina said. "I think you're overreacting, Kurt."

"Tina, he might have decided to be a good student for a day, but that doesn't explain why he was reading the _finance_ section of the paper."

"I still think you're overreacting," Tina replied with a shrug. "Why don't you ask Puck about it?"

"For some reason, I feel like that's a very bad plan."

"Why? He's Finn's best friend; he'll notice if something's actually wrong."

"He also might rip my head off if I talk to him outside of Glee practice."

Mercedes laughed. "Come on, he's softened up since he lost the Mohawk. I don't think he'll go beyond shoving you into a locker."

"Thank you, Mercedes. Your vote of confidence is overwhelming."

* * *

After lunch, Tina and Kurt both had Spanish class with Finn, and they agreed to keep a close eye on their gargantuan fellow glee clubber and then report back to Artie and Mercedes before Glee practice that afternoon. Spanish went normally for the first half of the class, when Mr. Schuester called on Finn, who hadn't been taking notes and sort of looked like he'd been spacing out.

"Finn, can you answer number 15 in your workbook? _¿Qué usted hizo anoche?_"

Kurt's jaw dropped when Finn answered immediately, speaking in rapid, flowing Spanish. "_Escribí un ensayo para la clase de inglés, ví una pelicula, hice espaguetis y leí un libro._"

Mr. Schue's eyebrows shot up. "Been studying outside of class, Finn?"

"No."

"…Okay." Mr. Schue cast Finn one last weird look before turning to another student. "Ronnie, how about you?"

Kurt twisted in his seat to place a hastily written note on Tina's desk behind him. _NOW do you believe me?_

He only had to wait a few seconds for a reply. _ok, i admit it. theres something VERY weird going on. u were right._

_Of course I was! What do we do?_

_well how am i supposed to kno?_

_You are no help at all. I thought Asians were supposed to be smart._

_do i have to remind you that i have plenty of safety pins on me right now, and ur within arms reach?_

_All right, all right. I'm at the mercy of your horrendously macabre wardrobe. Now, what are we going to do about my dearly freakish stepbrother?_

_i still stand by my idea from earlier – talk to puck._

_If you want to talk to Puck about this, then be my guest and I will give a marvelous speech at your funeral when Artie's too choked-up to talk._

_u asked me for an idea and now u shoot it down. what do you expect me 2 do?_

"Eyes forward, Kurt," Mr. Schue interrupted. Kurt ducked his head and waited for him to turn and continue writing on the whiteboard before scrawling his reply.

_Why don't we just wait to talk to Cedes and Artie before we decide on a strategy? My plans don't have a long history of working out._

_good point. we'll settle this during glee.

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**A/N: What in God's name is going on? I have no idea. Just kidding, I do. And for once, I actually know where this is going. Review!**_  
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	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: I hope you're ready to laugh, because I chose the most ridiculous song ever for this chapter. Enjoy!**

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**_Chapter Two_**  
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As it turned out, Kurt and Tina didn't get a chance to talk to the other two members of their entourage – when they got to Glee, Mr. Schue was already there and leaped into the week's assignment the second they walked in the door. Mercedes sent them a questioning look while Mr. Schue talked, and Kurt signaled that he'd talk to her later. She replied with a vaguely threatening expression, but turned back to the front before Mr. Schue could jump on them for not paying attention.

"Now, you've all been doing a great job with your trio assignments, but we've got one more group to perform today," Mr. Schue was saying. "Let's give it up for Santana, Mike, and Finn!"

There was a scattering of applause as the three of them stepped up to the front of the room, Mike muttering something to the band too quiet for the rest of the club to pick up. Santana smirked at the small audience as she and Mike assumed a slightly promiscuous dance position that caused Mr. Schue's brows to climb towards his gelled hairline. Finn stood off to the side as the music began and Santana and Mike dove into a fast-paced tango in very close quarters. Within only a few seconds, Kurt was flashing back to Catharine Zeta-Jones and Antonio Banderas in _The Mask of Zorro_ (the movie was crap, to be sure, but who _didn't_ like Antonio in pants that tight?).

Santana spun under Mike's arm and leaned back against him, one arm looping up and around his neck. "_It's not his fault that he's so irresistible,_" she sang, her voice rich and seductive (as if her voice could be anything but). "_But all the damage he's caused is unfixable._"

To everyone's surprise, Finn jumped in on the lyrics, Mike dipping low as Santana gracefully bent backwards. "_Every twenty seconds you repeat his name, but when it comes to me, you don't care if I'm alive or dead, so—_"

"_Objection!_" Mike cut in, snatching Santana around the waist and yanking her back to his side just as she was stepping closer to where Finn stood. "_I don't wanna be the exception._"

"_To get a bit of your attention_," Santana chimed in.

Finn suddenly reached over and grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him. "_I love you for free, and I'm not your father!_"

She placed a hand against his chest and straight-armed him, arguing with, "_But you don't even bother—_"

"_Objection!_" cried Mike, pulling Santana around him in a complicated move that would have had Sue Sylvester's head spinning with pride. "_I'm tired of this triangle; got dizzy dancing tango…_"

As Santana was abruptly tossed into the air, Finn jumped forward and caught her before she could hit the floor. "_I'm falling apart in your hands again_," she sang with as much fervor as she had delivered throughout the song so far, but she gave Finn a confused look, as if she was surprised that he'd caught her. "_No way! I've got to get away!_"

Kurt's eyes bugged out as Finn swept Santana into a continuation of the tango from earlier – it had obviously been choreographed and rehearsed, but both Mike and Santana were behaving as if they'd expected it to be executed clumsily. Which, where Finn was concerned, wasn't at all unwarranted. And yet Finn was moving with just as much fluidity (if less flexibility) as Mike, almost like he'd been taking dance lessons for as long as Rachel. Kurt glanced over to Mercedes – her jaw was hanging open, and both Tina and Artie looked equally stunned. Come to think of it, so did everyone in the club. Even Brad.

But, like true showmen, Santana and Mike maintained their vocals and choreography despite Finn's sudden and bizarre agility.

"_Next to his Lamborghini, I look minimal_," Mike sang, casting Finn a suspicious glare as he spun Santana between them. "_That's why in front of your eyes I'm invisible_."

"_But you've got to know small things also count,_" Santana replied, slinking around Finn's torso. "_Better put your feet on the ground and see what it's about, so—_"

"_Objection! I don't wanna be the exception!_" Mike sang, reaching out for Santana's hand as she edged back towards him.

But then Finn snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her backwards. "_To get a bit of your attention._"

"_I love you for free and I'm not your father!_" Mike almost looked genuinely angry with Finn, though Kurt supposed he couldn't blame the Asian for it. He'd never expected to be one-upped on the dance floor, let alone by the clumsy Frankenteen.

"_But you don't even bother_."

"_Objection! I'm tired of this triangle – got dizzy dancing tango._"

"_I'm falling apart in your hands again. No way! I've got to get away!_"

Finn circled around the two of them, singing, "_I wish there was a chance for you and me._"

Santana leaned into Mike's chest and responded with, "_I wish you couldn't find a place to be… away from me…_"

They paused in their movements as the drummer struck out three simple beats, then Santana untangled herself from Mike's arms, chanting, "_This is pathetic and sardonic and sadistic and psychotic – tango's not for three, was never meant to be—_"

Finn interrupted and kept up the rhythm. "_But you can try it, rehearse it, or train like a horse, but don't you count on me, don't you count on me, girl!_"

Somehow, as the music swelled, the three of them launched into a third heavily-rehearsed tango, more complicated than the first two, with Santana constantly switching dance partners between Finn and Mike as she echoed the chorus. "_Objection! I'm tired of this triangle; got dizzy dancing tango. I'm falling apart in your hands again. No way! I've got to get away! No way! I'm falling apart in your hands again. I've got to get away! Get away! Get away!_"

The three of them fell into their choreographed ending pose, and the room settled into a stunned silence. Eventually, Mr. Schue snapped out of his shock and started clapping, shaking his head as if he didn't really believe what he'd just seen. The rest of the club followed suit, clapping slowly as they worked to process Finn's un-Finn-like behavior. Kurt could bet the majority of them were wondering if they were experiencing some weird dream their subconscious had thought up.

"Uh, _wow_," Mr. Schue said, standing up and laughing almost nervously as Finn, Santana, and Mike resumed their seats. "Great job, guys. Surprising song choice, but it really worked. Excellent performance."

Santana and Mike exchanged a baffled look.

Finn glanced around at the rest of the Glee clubbers. "Um…why is everyone staring at me?"

* * *

"What. The. _Hell_."

Finn's head snapped up to see Kurt standing at the bottom of the stairs to their shared basement bedroom later that evening after Glee practice. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry," he said hastily. He didn't know why Kurt looked like he was about to have a conniption, but he knew that it was better to apologize for something he didn't do than be on the receiving end of a Kurt Hummel Hissy Fit.

"What the _hell!_" Kurt said again.

Finn frowned. "Look, man, I really don't know what you're talking about if 'what the hell' is the only thing you say."

"First you read the newspaper, then you write a better essay on Shakespeare than _me_, then you apparently speak Spanish all of a sudden, and then you can _dance_? Better than _MIKE_? _WHAT THE HELL_!"

Finn winced. Kurt was screeching. "I just picked it up from him, okay? And I only said a sentence in Spanish. I dunno why you're getting all excited over this."

"Maybe Artie was right, maybe you _were_ abducted by aliens."

"That's ridiculous and you know it."

Kurt sunk into his desk chair, regarding Finn with a concerned look that was probably better fitting for someone who was dying from some terminal disease. "Seriously, Finn, what's going on? You're starting to freak me out."

"I don't _know_, all right?" Finn snapped, lying back on his bed. "I just…I understand things better now."

"What do you mean?"

Finn rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I don't know. It's easier now. Like, I don't have to think so hard to understand what Rachel's saying or math problems or stuff like that. To be honest, it's freaking me out a little too. I mean, look at this." He snatched the folded-up newspaper from his desktop and tossed it to Kurt. "I did the crossword this morning."

"You did the crossword?" Kurt flipped open the paper to see that yes, the puzzle had been completely filled in – in _pen_, no less – with Finn's handwriting. Nothing had been crossed out or corrected.

"Yeah. It wasn't even _hard_, man. It was easy."

Kurt sighed, tossing the paper to the floor. "Maybe we should get you checked out."

Finn's head raised. "What? Why?"

"Don't you want to know why this is happening to you?"

"Kurt, you're making this sound like it's a bad thing."

"It might be."

Finn exhaled heavily and sat back up. "Look, for the first time in my life I got an A on an essay that _I_ wrote. I can answer the questions that people ask me without having to worry about sounding like a retard or being compared to Brittany. _How_ could that be a bad thing?"

"How long has this been going on, exactly?"

"Um…couple days now."

"Well, that's my point – it's only been a couple of days. You don't know how this is developing."

"No, but—"

"Finn, at least see Dr. Schwartz. Once. For me. If he says it's nothing, I'll shut up."

"Fine, but somehow I doubt you'll shut up even if he does say it's nothing."

"You know me so well. One last thing, Finn…"

"Yeah?"

"_Why_ did you sing Shakira? That's just…odd."

Finn broke into a fit of laughter.

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**A/N: Whee! That was fun to write! Please review and tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oh, dear Lord, I really do have no life, don't I? Oh well. At least somebody's getting something out of my lack of social connections.

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_Chapter Three_

Later that night, after Finn had gone to bed, Kurt stole upstairs and pulled out his cell phone, punching in Santana's number and sitting in the living room as he waited for her to answer.

"_Yeah, what?_"

"Santana, it's Kurt."

She snorted. "_Hummel, you're right on time. MIKE! You owe me ten bucks!_"

"…I'm sorry, were you taking bets on how long it would take me to call?"

"_Does that surprise you?_" Kurt could hear the mischievous grin in her tone.

"No, I suppose not. Well, if it makes you money, I'm happy to oblige. Listen, Santana—"

"_No._"

"What?"

"_No, neither Mike nor I knew that Finn was gonna bust a move._"

Kurt gave his head a shake. "Why do I even bother putting in the effort to phrase a question when the person I'm asking is psychic?"

"'_Cause you're a perfectionist and we all know it,_" she retorted. "_Any idea what's going on with the Former Klutz?_"

"None whatsoever. I'm taking him to the doctor on Monday to have him examined."

"_Really? You think there's actually something wrong?_" She sounded genuinely surprised and, weirder, concerned.

"I'm not ruling it out. It's more likely than Artie's theory, anyways."

"_Let me guess – aliens_," she scoffed.

"Gee, you _must_ be psychic," Kurt drawled. "Any theories on your part?"

"_Nope. Mike and I spent at least twenty-four hours total trying to drill that dance routine into Finn's potato head and he still didn't get it. Not until Glee practice, anyway. He could never do it during our rehearsals._"

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, this is getting so weird."

"…_You sound like there's something besides his transformation from Curly to Michael Flately._"

Deciding to not question Santana's simultaneous knowledge of the Three Stooges and Lord of the Dance, Kurt proceeded to tell her what he'd picked up, from Finn's new interest in the news to his recent Spanish-speaking abilities.

"_Holy fuck, you're right – that _is_ weird. Call me next Monday and let me know how the doctor thing went._"

Kurt's brows shot up in surprise. "You're actually worried about him?"

"_Oh, fuck off, Hummel. I just want to make sure that this isn't some weird disease he could've given me when I deflowered him._"

And Kurt was absolutely _certain_ that she'd smirked when she heard him choke.

* * *

Dr. Pete Schwartz was a Santa-like character with twinkling blue eyes who ran the pediatrics ward at the Lima General Hospital. He knew all the kids in town, and always would for as long as he was working. He dealt with panicky mothers at least twice a day, so it was nothing unusual when Kurt called up and scheduled an appointment just for a general checkup for his new stepbrother (Dr. Schwartz knew that Burt and Carole weren't married yet, but if they weren't hitched by the end of the year, he'd sell his PhD on eBay).

"So, Finn, any particular reason you feel like you need a checkup?" the doctor inquired as he shone a light into Finn's eyes and checked his pupil dilation.

"He's been acting really strangely," Kurt piped up from his seat on the other side of the room (the chair was there for parents, but whatever).

"Oh? How so?" Dr. Schwartz lightly tapped Finn's knees with the tiny hammer, nodding slightly in approval when his legs jerked. Really, Finn looked ridiculous sitting up on the examination table in a room that was clearly designed for children. There was a painting on the wall of a fairy tale world where all the nursery rhyme characters lived, and there were animals stenciled onto the wall behind him. Not to mention that Finn was so freaking _tall_, his feet dangled rather close enough to the floor that it was almost pointless to have him sit on the examination table at all. But he was still a minor, which meant pediatrics.

Kurt explained about the dancing, bilingualism, and the comprehension of Shakespeare. Dr. Schwartz stared at him for a couple of seconds after he finished.

"I _told_ you you were overreacting," Finn complained, embarrassed to be wasting the doctor's time.

Kurt huffed. "Doctor, you're looking at a grade-A klutz who is suddenly _not_ a grade-A klutz. There is _something_ wrong."

"I'm in the room, y'know," Finn grumbled.

The doctor cleaned his glasses on the hem of his lab coat. "Well, Kurt may have a point, Finn. Any changes in your eating habits lately?"

"No."

"He eats just as much as usual," Kurt said. Finn glared at him.

The doctor patiently ignored Kurt's commentary. "How about sleep habits? Any change there?"

"Um, well…" Finn shifted uncomfortably on the table. "I haven't really been sleeping a lot lately."

"How much _have_ you been sleeping?"

Finn glanced guiltily at the floor. "Like, ten minutes."

"_What?_" Kurt cried.

Dr. Schwartz turned to the smaller boy. "Kurt, why don't you go sit in the waiting room? Finn'll be out in a few."

Kurt frowned, offended, but threw his Marc Jacobs jacket over his arm and strode out the door without a word.

Dr. Schwartz sighed and wheeled his stool forward so that he was sitting directly in front of his patient. "Finn, when was the last time you really slept? I mean, had a good night's sleep, the full eight hours."

Finn's face scrunched up as he thought back. "Um…I had…seven hours, I think, on Tuesday night."

"And how much sleep have you had since then?"

Finn sighed, rubbing his eyes and slouching. "I don't know."

"Do I really need to explain to you why sleep is important?"

"Look, I've been _trying_ to sleep, but I – I get in bed and I just lie awake for hours and I'm _bored_, so I go upstairs and I do stuff instead. I hate being bored."

"What kind of stuff do you do?"

"I read, mostly. There's not much to do when everyone else is asleep."

"You read? How much?" In the years since Dr. Schwartz had first started seeing Finn as an infant, he'd never known the boy to be a reader.

"Like, two books a night. Roughly."

"Two books _every night_?" the doctor echoed. "And…are you actually absorbing what you're reading?"

"Yeah, that's what's weird. I remember everything."

"Huh. Well, that is interesting. For the time being, though, I think we should treat your insomnia and see where it goes from there. Okay?"

Finn frowned. He'd heard of insomnia and he knew what it meant. He'd also seen _The Machinist_, and it had scared the hell out of him. He did _not_ want to be an insomniac. "Insomnia? You think I have that?"

Dr. Schwartz glanced up from where he was writing a prescription slip. "If you haven't slept in almost a week? Almost definitely."

"But I'm not _tired_."

"It doesn't matter, Finn. Your brain needs to rest for a little while every day so it can recharge. It can't be running twenty-four-seven or else it'll shut down completely. You need your REM cycle as much as you need food in your stomach." He tore off the slip and handed it to Finn. "Give this to your mother; have her pick this up from the pharmacy. I want you to take one a day and then come back and see me next week – Jane can schedule a slot for you at the front desk."

Finn sighed and hopped down off the table, taking the prescription and heading out the door. "Thanks, Dr. Schwartz."

"And Finn?"

"Huh?"

"Don't drink any coffee."

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**A/N: Okay, it's almost 1:30 in the morning and I have to be at work by ten tomorrow. I'm going to bed. Having an inbox full of reviews in the morning would certainly make my day!**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: You see what happens when I know where a story's going ahead of time? I update quickly.

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_Chapter Four_

"Hey, Kurt."

Kurt jumped nearly a foot in the air. "Jesus _Christ_, Finn! Don't scare me like that – bug-eyes are terrible for my complexion." He decided not to comment on Finn's recently developed ability to walk like a normal person and not an elephant. He supposed it probably just went with the weird dance skills.

Finn laughed, a hand on the railing. He was dressed in gym shorts and a loose grey tank top. "Sorry, man. Puck and I are gonna toss the basketball around out front – wanna join?"

Kurt was surprised by the invitation, but also oddly pleased. He had no insecurities about being included in social get-togethers – being invited to shopping trips and spa days was a regular thing. But being asked to join in athletics was something new, and he was glad that Finn had thought to ask him. Though, if Puck were there, he did wonder if it was a good idea.

But what the hell, he was a risk-taker.

"Uh, sure. Yeah, just let me change and I'll be up in a minute."

Finn flashed him the trademark goofy Hudson grin (he'd _definitely_ gotten that from his mother, as Kurt had soon discovered after their respective parents started dating), and hopped back up the stairs two at a time, not tripping once.

"Damn, Hummel," Puck said when Kurt strode out into the driveway.

"What?"

"You're not wearing any Calvin Klein or fancy shit," was Puck's keen observation.

Kurt sighed, mock-wistfully. "Oh, how I wish the words would roll off of my tongue as eloquently as they do yours," he remarked dryly. "I do have everyday clothes too, Puckerman. Also, Klein's a bit beneath my tastes. You know, I'm surprised you even know who Calvin Klein is."

"Shut up, he's on like every billboard from here to Columbus."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Just toss me the ball, would you?"

Puck obliged, and Kurt dribbled it around for a minute before shooting it towards the hoop that the two bigger boys had set up pretty much as soon as Finn had moved in. The ball bounced off the rim and sailed back towards Puck, who caught it and ran up to slam-dunk it, swinging off the rim for a few seconds before dropping back to the ground. (And Kurt was _not_ beneath appreciating how Puck's biceps bulged before he let go of the hoop – Puck was an ass, yes, and a knucklehead, but _damn_ if he didn't have a body worthy of Hercules. Kurt could still look, couldn't he?)

Finn caught the ball before it could roll into the street and dribbled it back and forth between his legs, then sinking a perfect shot from halfway down the drive.

"Whoa, nice shot, man," Puck said.

"That _was_ pretty impressive," Kurt agreed.

Puck smirked, bouncing the ball back towards his best friend. "Bet you can't do it again, though."

Finn grinned. "Wanna bet?"

"How much?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. He hated male aggression, especially when it released itself through gambling.

"Ten bucks."

"You're on."

"Do you even _have_ ten dollars, Puck?" Kurt inquired politely.

"Fuck off, Hummel. I got my pool-cleaning business, don't I?" He nodded to Finn. "Ten bucks. Shoot it."

Finn squinted at the net for a second, seeming to be evaluating. After a moment, he jumped and tossed the ball overhand.

Puck laughed. "It's wide, man – you owe me—" He stopped talking, though, when the ball seemed to veer slightly from its path and fall neatly through the hoop. "What the _hell_?"

Finn grinned. "You're just a sore loser."

"No, seriously, how'd you do that?"

The quarterback shrugged, catching the ball as it bounced back to him (both Puck and Kurt had been too stunned to catch it as it came down near them) and dribbling it in front of him as he talked. "Easy. I used the wind."

"The what?"

"The wind."

"What the fuck are you, Pocahontas?"

"No," Finn answered patiently. "Kurt threw a perfect shot earlier, but it didn't go through, meaning the wind's strong enough to move the ball while it's in the air. You aim a little to the side, the wind moves it for you. Like I said – easy." He shrugged again. "It's just simple physics."

"Simple physics?" Puck echoed, giving him a what-the-fuck-are-you-smoking-and-can-I-have-some look. "Since when have you gotten _any_ physics?"

"It's really not that hard to get."

Kurt crossed his arms. "Finn, if I remember correctly – and I know I do – I was helping you with your physics homework two weeks ago and you were having difficulty understanding the concept of gravity. Which, with your history of injuries, should have been the _easiest_ thing to get."

"You know what? I'm sick of you guys treating me like a dumbass," Finn snapped, making Kurt jump. Kurt opened his mouth to retort with a snarky comment, but Finn wasn't finished. "For ages, you all have railed on me for being stupid, for cheating off Brittany, for not being able to sing and walk at the same time or – or – or do _anything_ and walk at the same time. Well, something's changed, and now you're railing on me for being _smart_, for not _having_ to cheat off Brittany. And I don't know why the _hell_ I'm smart all of a sudden, and yeah, it's freaking me out as much as you, but _I don't get_ why you can't just leave it alone instead of jumping on me like I'm sick or something."

When Kurt and Puck only stared at him in a stunned silence, Finn tossed the ball at Puck and trudged inside without another word.

"Was it just me, or was that _completely_ out of character for Finn?" Kurt said, staring at the door in disbelief.

"Uh, no, it wasn't."

Kurt's head whipped round to glare at Puck. "Excuse me?"

"Finn's right, man," Puck said with unusually serious face. "You were acting so high and mighty and you were so busy tryna figure out why he's smart that you didn't notice him getting pissed. Seriously, Hummel, he's practically your stepbrother. Don't treat him like you treat all the other losers at school."

Kurt huffed and he probably would've stomped his foot if he hadn't thought the action was ridiculously childish. "Don't lecture me, Puckerman. He was angry at you just as much as he was angry at me."

"No, actually, he wasn't." Puck's voice was gaining a little more force now – he was genuinely annoyed. "Look, Hummel, I've known Finn a hell of a lot longer than you have, and I know him a hell of a lot better. And trust me, you have got _no fucking clue_ how to read him."

"Excuse me?" _Now_ Kurt was starting to get pissy. Where did Noah Puckerman, of all people, get off telling Kurt Hummel what to do? "He _said_ 'you guys'! Meaning _both _of us!"

Puck rolled his eyes. "Do I _seriously_ have to give you the guys-don't-say-what-they-mean speech? We also tell hot girls we love them as long as it'll get their legs uncrossed."

Kurt made a disgusted face. "God, you are _so_ crude! Weren't _you_ the one who called him Pocahontas?"

"Kurt, I'm an asshole."

The statement was delivered in such a matter-of-factly way that it threw Kurt completely off-guard, and he said nothing as Puck looked him in the eye and spoke again in the same odd tone.

"He expects that kinda shit from me. He doesn't expect it from you."

And with a final pointed glare, Puck strode off down the street.

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**A/N: For some reason, I like it when Kurt verbally gets his ass kicked. Hope you did too :) Leave a review.**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: I hope you all know that I'm sacrificing valuable sleep time to write this. Yes, that's how much I like you guys.

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_Chapter Five_

Kurt thought a cascade of ill wishes upon Puck's head as he watched the football player walk away along the sidewalk. Finally, he huffed, muttering to himself about Neanderthal knuckleheads, and turned back toward the house. He stopped about five feet from the front step, though, and dug his cell out of his pocket, which was buzzing and obnoxiously singing _Good Morning, Baltimore_.

"What is it, Rachel?" Kurt sighed.

"_Hi, Kurt, I realize it's only been a day since I last asked you, but I was just wondering if you had made any progress on the Finn case._"

"No, I have not. And please do not turn this into a Nancy Drew situation. This is not a case."

"_I know that, but— Oh, that's actually quite a fitting metaphor. Hm. Anyways, I was hoping to garner some more information from you in regards to Finn's suddenly acquired abilities to dance and understand chemistry._"

"Chemistry?" Kurt echoed, having no clue what she was referring to.

"_Yes. As you may know, Finn and I have study hall in the same period together and we were working on Mr. Harding's mole conversion project and I kept getting a problem wrong, and then Finn takes one glance at it, switches a number, and it's solved. That's rather strange, isn't it?_"

"Uh, yeah, I suppose." _Not in light of everything else he's been doing lately, _Kurt thought dryly. "Listen, Rachel, I'm going to call you back later, all right?"

"_Kurt Hummel, I know that you have no intention of following up on that promise. It's a Tuesday, which means that you're burdened with an extra load of homework due to having Mr. Baxter's geometry class this morning, not to mention Glee practice this afternoon took away time from that, and you have no study hall periods on Tuesday._"

Kurt took a deep breath before answering. "I don't even want to know how you got ahold of my schedule, but you should know that that's extremely creepy and stalkerish."

"_I am offended by that notion. I would think that after Jacob Ben Israel's repeated attempts to, as he so crudely phrases it, 'get into my pants' I would be the least like to exhibit behavior worthy of a stalker._"

"Well, Rachel, like you said, I have a lot of homework, so I don't have time to stand here and talk to you. I'll see you tomorrow."

"_Wonderful – will you possibly have an update on the Finn case for me by then?_"

But Kurt had already hung up.

Striding inside, Kurt tugged at the neck of his workout shirt – it wasn't uncomfortable, but now that he was inside the warmth of the kitchen he was already starting to sweat. Grumbling under his breath about his stepbrother and his stepbrother's pushy girlfriend, he reached for the fridge, anticipating a glass of cold nonfat milk before he went downstairs to change. But he felt that horrible holy-crap-gravity-works feeling in the pit of his stomach and was forced to grab the edge of the counter to steady himself – he'd slipped in a medium-sized puddle of blue-tinted liquid that had splashed across the tile floor.

"What the…?"

An empty Gatorade bottle lay on its side by the foot of the fridge, like it had been dropped. Frowning, Kurt turned slightly, leaning around the kitchen island.

"Oh, Jesus – _FINN!_"

Kurt dropped to his knees beside his unconscious stepbrother, rolling him over and giving his shoulder a violent shake. "Finn! Finn, wake up! _Finn!_ Come on, don't you _dare_ make me call 911!"

Finn's eyes fluttered open, and Kurt let out a massive sigh of relief. "God, Finn, don't _do_ that to me!" He slapped Finn's chest.

"Ow…" Finn mumbled.

Kurt steadied his breathing and leaned back against the lower cupboards. "Finn, what happened? Come on, sit up, you're lying in a puddle of Gatorade." He grasped Finn's hand and helped pull him into a sitting position. "Tell me what happened."

Finn blinked several times and gave his head a shake. "It's nothing, Kurt, I just slipped and hit my head on the counter."

Kurt scooted forward, reaching for Finn's head – Finn batted his hands away. "Finn, let me see."

"There's nothing to see," Finn snapped.

"If you hit your head, there's going to be a bruise. You might have a concussion," Kurt insisted. "Just let me see." He reached forward again, and this time Finn actually slapped his hand.

"Leave me alone."

"What is your problem?" Kurt cried. "I'm just trying to see if you're hurt!"

"I'm not!" Slightly unsteady, Finn quickly pulled himself to his feet, using the counter for support on the way up. "There's nothing to worry about, so stop it."

Kurt stood up as well, hands on his hips. "I'm taking you back to Dr. Schwartz tomorrow."

"I AM NOT SICK!" Finn bellowed. "I am not hurt or sick or anything else that means I need a trip to the doctor! _I. JUST. FELL._"

Kurt's eyes were wide in surprise at Finn's outburst. "Finn…_what_ is going on with you?" he asked softly.

And Finn _laughed_. A pissed-off, empty laugh, and then he turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen.

* * *

Finn slammed the door to the guest bedroom behind him and flopped down on the neatly-made bed without taking off his shoes (he always retreated to the guest room when he and Kurt fought and he'd rather not face the white walls and weird furniture in their shared bedroom). _Why_ did Kurt always have to blow things out of proportion? Really, he was way more similar to Rachel than he'd care to be told. Finn could hear Kurt angrily moving things around in the kitchen downstairs – he was probably cleaning up the Gatorade that Finn had spilled (and probably tracked across the floor) but Finn really couldn't bring himself to feel bad about leaving Kurt to clean up his mess right then. So instead, Finn rested his head on the pillow and tried to think, which had been becoming easier and easier by the day.

To be absolutely frank, Finn was scared shitless by whatever was happening. He hadn't been sleeping – like, at _all_ – and while this new ability to remember everything he read and learned and absorbed was definitely helpful in school and in Burt's shop, it was also really fucking freaky. He wasn't used to storing so much information, and it felt like waking up on a hot summer night, weighted down by a ton of heavy blankets that for some reason he couldn't get rid of. It was uncomfortable, and he could almost swear his head weighed more now.

Finn sighed and rolled over, shutting his eyes against the late afternoon sunlight that was poking through the blinds.

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**A/N: Ooh, it's starting to get dramatic! *rubs hands together* Review!**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: This was my first time writing Carole, and I have to say - this woman just makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. She is Epic with a capital E, and she and Burt make one badass team.

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_Chapter Six_

"Finn, honey?"

Finn's eyes snapped open, and for a split second he was confused about why the room was horizontal. Realizing he was lying down, he glanced at the clock, groaning when he saw that he'd been asleep for only eight restless minutes. The mattress shifted as his mother came in and sat beside him, resting a hand on his leg. "You okay, sweetie?"

He rolled over onto his back, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah. Bad day is all."

"What did you and Kurt fight about?"

For a moment, Finn wondered how she knew about the fight, but he was in the guest bedroom – his safe haven – and if he'd only been asleep for eight minutes then Kurt was probably still banging around in the kitchen. That was probably the major difference between the two of them – Kurt was explosive. He let all his anger out the second it came to him. You always knew why he was mad and who he was mad at (unless the reason was intensely personal, in which case he just fell completely silent and tight-lipped, but you could usually tell who he was mad at by which head he was glaring at the most). Finn, on the other hand, was the quiet brooder, who bottled it up and internalized it until he exploded, then retreated behind a slammed door to calm down.

He thought for a minute – what _had_ he and Kurt fought about?

Carole gave his knee a squeeze. "Kurt said you hit your head."

"Yeah. It's nothing."

"Can I see?" she requested.

Finn sat up so that he was sitting next to her, prodding the tender spot on his head just above his ear. "Right there."

She peered closely at the spot, separating his hair to get a better look at the skin as gently as she could. He winced a little. "Sorry," she said softly. "It doesn't look too bad. Just a little bit of a bruise." Finn nodded silently as she ruffled the hair on the top of his head affectionately. "Sweetie, is everything okay?"

He sighed heavily. "I dunno, Mom…" he said, shaking his head. "This thing is just getting really weird."

Her hand came down from his head to rest on his back. "You mean your insomnia?"

"Well, that…that's just part of it, I think."

"Finn, can I give you some advice?"

"What?"

She smiled. "You got an A on a paper. It's not the end of the world."

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn't told her about the dancing or the all-night reading sessions, nor had he told her about how freaked out he was over the fact that he could think with a speed that was increasing with every passing day. And before he knew it, he was telling her everything. He told her every tiny, insignificant detail that came to mind – and there were a _lot_ – and she just sat and listened with a hand on his back as she waited for him release all the pressure he'd built up over the last couple of weeks. When he finally finished, nearly forty minutes later, he let out a huge breath and waited for her to say something.

"Wow," she said after a few moments. "That's, uh…that's unusual."

"You're telling me."

She rubbed his back. "Maybe we should take you back to the doctor. You know, get you a CT scan or an MRI."

He sighed. "You really think I should?"

"Well, if you aren't just overreacting to something – and I don't think you are – then there's something actually going on in there," she tapped his temple with a finger, "and we should know what it is, even if it's nothing to worry about."

"Okay."

"You all right?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Come on. I'm taking you out for a milkshake."

* * *

Kurt was still sulking an hour later when the doorbell rang. He sighed, knowing that Carole and Finn had gone out for some mother-son bonding time and his Dad was still in the shop, which meant that he was the only one here to answer the door. Trudging upstairs, he opened the door to find a UPS delivery guy standing idly on the steps.

"Hiya, I got a package here for a Mr. Finn Hud?"

"Hudson," Kurt corrected.

The guy glanced down at his clipboard, his gum smacking loudly. "Whoops, my bad. You him?"

"No, but I can sign for him," Kurt replied. Since when did Finn shop online? He scrawled his signature and the deliveryman swaggered back to the truck, lifting a massive box labeled _FRAGILE _several times over out of the back. Kurt's eyebrows shot up.

"Did he order a complete glass menagerie?" he asked when the box was set onto the porch table.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Thank you."

After the UPS truck pulled away from the curb, Kurt debated whether or not to open the box, finally deciding to leave the job to Finn – it was too large for him carry downstairs by himself without falling. So he left it sitting on the porch table for Finn to pick up when he and Carole got home, and then returned to his bedroom.

An hour passed in which Kurt completely failed at concentrating on his geometry homework. He was further distracted when there was a shuffling at the top of the stairs and a slight grunt. Finn appeared a few seconds later, taking slow careful steps as he carried the box down – it was clearly very heavy, so Kurt jumped up and met him at the bottom of the stairs, reaching forward and helping him heft it onto his desk (a workspace that Finn had needed but never used).

"Thanks," Finn said, not really looking Kurt in the eye. He pulled a pair of scissors from the desk drawer.

"So…what did you get?" Kurt asked, standing slightly awkwardly off to the side, out of Finn's way.

"You'll see."

"Mysterious, huh?"

"Yep." Using the scissor blade, Finn slit open the top flaps to reveal a flat layer of Styrofoam.

Just as Finn was about to pull the packaging out, Kurt spoke up. "Listen, Finn… About what happened earlier—"

"Don't worry about it; it's fine."

"No, listen to me, please." Finn finally turned his attention from the box to Kurt. "I know I can be…pushy at times—"

Finn's eyebrows rose.

"Okay, _all_ the time," Kurt allowed. "And I'm sorry about that; I'm trying to work on it. But I had no reason to treat you like I did; making fun of your academic difficulties should fall more in Puck's field of expertise, not mine."

"Seriously, dude, it's fine—"

"I'm not finished."

"…Okay."

Kurt sighed, rubbing his upper arm in unease. "I also know that I have very little grasp on the concept of other people's personal space – that's something else I'm trying to work on. So…I apologize. For teasing you and for over-worrying."

Finn analyzed him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Apology accepted."

Kurt smiled with relief. "Good. I promise I'll stop pestering you about the doctor."

His freakishly tall stepbrother chuckled lightly. "Actually, I'm going in again next Saturday."

"Really? What made you change your mind?"

Finn shrugged. "Like I said. It's freaking me out as much as you."

He went to pull the packaging off the top of the box, and Kurt could tell the subject was closed. Stepping closer to peer over Finn's shoulder (which was quite a feat considering the difference in height), Kurt frowned at the large, rectangular prism nestled in the Styrofoam flats.

"Finn…" Kurt started patiently. "Why did you get a fish tank?"

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**A/N: Reviews are a necessity in order to feed my muse (whose name is Rube) so that he doesn't starve and die on me and leave me unable to write.**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Dear GOD I need a life. Oh well.

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_Chapter Seven_

"Finn, why did you get a fish tank?"

"'Cause I wanted to."

"…You don't have fish."

"I know _that_, Kurt. I'm gonna go to the pet store tomorrow. Relax, will you?"

"Finn, the fish tank throws off the whole dynamic of the room, and I worked very hard on putting it together—"

"Pushiness, Kurt," Finn reminded him offhandedly.

Kurt sighed. "Sorry. But _why_ are you getting fish?"

"I dunno. I like them."

"Since when?"

"You've been asking that a lot lately," Finn observed as he gently lifted the tank out of the box and placed it on the empty desk space, then pulling out several smaller objects that had fallen to the bottom – tank decorations (pebbles, fake rocks, seaweed, etcetera), and a small piece of equipment that Kurt guessed was the water filter. "I've always liked fish. Mom's just never let me have any before."

"Well, how did you pay for this? It looks expensive." Kurt squinted at the instructions for the filter and the tank's other features. "You got one with a built-in lamp in the top?"

"Yeah. It'll be cool at night, you'll see," Finn promised as he threw the packaging onto his bed and went about mounting the filter.

"Do you need the directions?" Kurt asked, holding the pamphlet out to him.

"Nope, I'm good."

Kurt tossed it onto the bed with the packaging. "So how _did_ you pay for it? Did your mom buy it?"

"No, I did."

"Finn, you don't have any money," he stated, sitting on the edge of his own bed and watching his stepbrother work. "You work at Sheets 'N Things."

"I got a raise."

"What? When?"

"Last week; didn't I tell you?"

"No! How'd you manage that?"

Finn shrugged, using a mini-screwdriver from his desk drawer to tighten the filter's clamp around the glass. "I rearranged the floor."

"The what?"

"You know – where everything is in the store. I rearranged it."

"How did that get you a raise?"

Finn smiled to himself as he poured the bag of pebbles into the bottom of the tank. "After I did, the store had a seven percent increase in sales."

"Holy _crap_," Kurt exclaimed. "That's actually really great, Finn. I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Yeah, Mrs. Schuester is about to promote me to like, manager or something."

"Why do you sound glum when you say that?"

Finn shrugged, nestling a little treasure chest in the carpet of pebbles. "Working at Sheets 'N Things is for people like Puck."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning people who are ambitious but are just too lazy to actually get off their asses and go somewhere. I don't want to work there for the rest of my life. It's pointless to give me a promotion, especially since at this rate I'll have paid off Ms. Corcoran by the end of next month."

Kurt chuckled, making Finn turn around.

"What?"

"Nothing," Kurt said, flapping a hand. "Continue."

"No, what were you laughing at?" Finn insisted.

"It's just…you sound intelligent."

And Finn really wasn't sure how to respond to that for a very long time. Eventually, he shrugged again. "Well, you know…budding genius here."

Kurt didn't think he'd laughed so hard in months.

* * *

"Okay, Finn, now for the duration of the scan, you have to lie as still as possible," Dr. Rawlings (the doctor that Schwartz had referred him to for the exam) was saying the next Saturday as Finn lay down on the MRI bed. An IV needle had been inserted into his wrist, and now Dr. Rawlings was injecting something in through the tube. "This is an electromagnetic compound that will allow the machine to read your brain activity. Basically, your brain's going to light up like a Christmas tree."

Finn nodded, understanding, and swallowed.

"It's normal to be nervous or claustrophobic, especially if you've never had an MRI before, so if you feel at any point that you need to get out, just say so and we'll hear you through the microphone."

"Okay."

Dr. Rawlings and the assisting nurse both exited and went into the observation booth, where Kurt, Burt, and Carole all were watching through the tinted glass. The nurse pressed a couple buttons on the keyboard of one of the two computers, and the MRI bed slid backward, drawing Finn into the belly of the machine. A few seconds later, and they could only see his legs sticking out, but his face was displayed on the second computer monitor, slightly distorted from the fish-eye lens of the machine's camera.

Dr. Rawlings spoke into the microphone. "Okay, Finn, now I'm going to ask you a series of questions and I'd like you to answer as fast as you can. They'll start off easy and then we'll go on to the harder questions. We'll be taking a series of pictures of your brain, so there'll be some noise in between the questions – don't worry, it's just the machine doing its job."

"_Okay,_" Finn's voice floated through the speakers. "_I'm ready._"

Rawlings scratched at his moustache and peered at a clipboard next to the microphone. "Question One: when and where were you born?"

"_January seventeenth, nineteen-ninety-three. Columbus, Ohio, ten fifty-eight P.M._"

There was a whirring and clanking, almost like a pulse, emanating from somewhere within the machine, and an image of Finn's brain materialized on the first computer monitor, a few streaks of neon red highlighting the grey matter.

"Question Two: what grade are you in at school?"

"_Eleventh._"

More mechanical pulsing, and another picture nearly identical to the first appeared on the screen.

Rawlings made a sound of approval at the image. "Good, basic processing is intact." He spoke into the microphone again. "Okay, now we'll move on to the more difficult questions – these will grow steadily more complicated."

"_Okay._"

"Name three mammals starting with the letter _O_."

"_Okapi, ocelot, orangutan._"

The machine clanked, and Rawlings frowned. "That was pretty quick," he muttered to himself.

"Is that bad?" Carole asked, worry flitting across her features. Burt looped an arm around her shoulders.

"It's unusual, but not necessarily bad," Rawlings answered, studying the latest picture. "Whoa."

"What?" Burt said, looking at the image, which was highlighted in several places with luminescent green and red. "What does that mean?"

"It means his brain is very highly active. Again, it's unusual, but probably not bad." The doctor turned back to the microphone. "Next question: if you are twenty-eight years and four months old, and your sister is thirty-seven and eleven months old, what is the difference between your respective ages?"

"_Nine years, seven months,_" Finn answered immediately.

"Now _that_…" Rawlings said slowly as the machine pulsed. "_That_ was fast."

"What's it mean?" Burt asked again.

"It means that your son is _extremely_ smart," Rawlings replied with a pointed look at the two parents, neither of whom felt the need to correct him with 'stepson'. The next image had even more neon splotches, and even Burt noticed that the illuminated patches were increasing in size.

"Next question," Rawlings announced into the mic. "If you can carry seventy-five pounds at once, and you have an object that weighs thirteen-point-four pounds, how many of this object can you carry?"

"_Five and three-fifths._"

Rawlings didn't say anything this time as he waited for the image to show up. The brightly colored patches had once again multiplied and grown bigger. The doctor simply frowned in astonishment and went on to the next question. "Name as many aquatic animals as you can in fifteen seconds."

"_Octopus, whale, jellyfish, platypus, eel, coral, fish, mussel, sponge, crab, lobster, dolphin, sea worm, seal, porpoise, shark, squid, starfish, turtle—_"

"Okay, that's good, Finn," Rawlings interrupted him. He shut off the mic as the new image loaded.

It was completely covered with bright red and green.

"Oh my God," Rawlings said in amazement. "I've never seen anything like this."

"Like what? What's wrong?" Carole demanded.

Rawlings stood up. "All of the color you see are the areas of his brain that are active."

"But…that's all of it," Kurt said.

"Exactly."

Kurt shook his head in confusion. "I thought humans only used a small percentage of their brains."

"Well, he's still only using a small percentage – the point is that all the _regions_ in his brain matter are being used," Rawlings explained, gesturing to the massive green-and-red oval that was Finn's brain. "Harriet, can you pull up a control image of maximum activity?"

The nurse punched a couple of keys and Finn's brain shrunk, another brain appearing beside it. This one had neon splotches that looked a little like a map of the Great Lakes if the Lakes were dumping sites for nuclear waste. The majority of the brain was a dull bluish grey. Inactive.

"This," Rawlings said, "is what your average brain looks like when it's working at full capacity. As you can see, the differences are _staggering_, and Finn's brain wasn't even working hard."

Kurt, Burt, and Carole's jaws all dropped simultaneously.

"What's his IQ?" Rawlings inquired.

"A hundred and nine," Carole said absentmindedly, still staring at the magnetic images in shock.

"That can't be right," Rawlings said, his eyebrows snapping together in confusion. "A hundred and nine point IQ is below average."

"Well, his IQ hasn't been tested since he was in sixth grade—"

"Mrs. Hudson, an IQ _can_ change during a person's life, but the changes are minimal. A change of that size is unheard of."

"Why? What's his IQ now?"

Rawlings rubbed the back of his neck, staring at Finn's brightly lit brain as he thought. "Well, I can't test him now, but guessing from the information I see here…a hundred and ninety-five. At least."

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**A/N: The amount of fun I'm having writing this story is RIDICULOUS. Please review! **


	9. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

Kurt woke up in the middle of the night, feeling uneasy. The glow from Finn's newly inhabited fish tank bathed the room in soft bluish light, making the shadowed corners seem darker. Rolling over, Kurt saw Finn sitting up on his bed, watching his fish weave back and forth through the water.

"Still can't sleep?" Kurt asked groggily.

His stepbrother's gaze ventured away from the tank for a second before going back. "Nope."

"Anything on your mind?"

Finn gave a low chuckle, but Kurt could tell there was nothing funny. "Yeah, there's lots of things on my mind."

Kurt shifted until he was sitting up with his back against the headboard. "You want to talk about it?"

Finn sighed, running a hand over his half-spikey hair.

"What did Rawlings say in that meeting?" Kurt asked gently. After Finn had been extracted from the MRI machine, Kurt had been asked to sit in the hospital lobby while Carole, Burt, and Finn all had a private conference in Dr. Rawlings' office. The three of them had been silent all the way home, but Finn had been the only one who'd looked like it was bad news, so Kurt had been rather confused about what they'd talked about. Carole wasn't sobbing, so Finn wasn't dying…but he sure was acting like he was. "Finn?" Kurt prompted after a few moments of silence.

"He called me a scientific breakthrough."

"What?"

"Those were his _exact_ words."

Kurt frowned, unsure of how to react. "…Wow," was the intelligent reply he came up with.

Finn sighed again. "I have to go back for a CT scan and an IQ test."

Kurt studied him for a second, then spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Finn, I…I understand that this is weird and more than a little bit scary, but…why is this bad?"

"I don't _want_ to be a scientific breakthrough."

"Why not?"

"He was looking at me like I was a lab rat, man," Finn said with a slight shudder. "There were all these things he mentioned testing me for, and he didn't once ask if I was okay with it. The guy gives me the creeps. Hell, the whole _idea_ gives me the creeps."

"Jesus," Kurt said under his breath. A mental flash of Finn running on a treadmill with electrodes attached all over his body suddenly raised goosebumps on Kurt's arms. "That fucking bastard."

Finn actually laughed out loud at that. "Puck's rubbing off on you, man."

"I swear, Finn, I know you're the older one here but if that man does anything – and I mean _anything_ – without your consent, I will go so big-brother on his ass that he won't know what hit him."

"How exactly would you pull that off?" Finn asked with a grin.

"I'll tell Rachel. She'll storm the hospital fully armed with protest signs and her two gay dads. She'll probably also recruit Puck to be her right-hand man – I'm sure he'd be ecstatic to beat the crap out of a couple whitecoats."

Finn broke into a hearty belly laugh that didn't fade for a couple minutes. "Well, it's good to know you got my back."

"Bros before medicos, Finn."

"_Now_ who's bilingual?"

Kurt giggled, but forced himself to return to the initial topic of conversation. "What kind of things was he talking about testing you for?"

Finn leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Memory, math skills, processing speed…" he listed. "And a bunch of other shit I can't remember."

It was plain as day even in the shadows of the bedroom that Finn _could_ remember and just didn't want to talk about it. After all, Kurt doubted that an increased IQ would affect someone's ability to lie, and Finn had never been a good liar.

But what Finn said next worried Kurt more than anything that had happened over the past few weeks.

"I'm exhausted."

Kurt leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Finn, when was the last time you slept?"

"I don't remember."

And this time he wasn't lying.

Kurt frowned, his worry deepening. "I thought Dr. Schwartz gave you something for that."

"He did."

"And…?"

"And they don't do shit. I might as well be popping candy." Finn sighed and crossed his arms. "I gave the rest of them to Puck to sell to the kids at school."

"Finn Hudson, I swear to God—"

Finn cracked an eye open, a small smile playing across his features.

Kurt pursed his lips. "That was not funny."

"I thought it was."

"You're an idiot."

"No, I'm not."

* * *

The next day in first-period Chemistry class, Finn was greeted with a straightforward "Whoa, you look like shit," from Puck and an innocent-sounding "Was there a zombie attack I was unaware of?" from Artie.

"Good morning to you too," Finn grumbled.

"Seriously, man, you okay?" Puck asked under his breath once Artie had retreated to his usual seat at the front of the class.

Finn managed a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired is all."

Puck watched him for a second, not buying it. It looked like he was about to say something more, but just then Mr. Harding commanded the class's attention. "Okay, everyone, please separate into your respective pairs and continue wherever you left off on the spectrum recognition project. I expect those packets finished by the end of class, people!"

Finn picked up his notebook and headed over to where Artie was sitting. Artie had already taken out their notes from the previous class and was sifting through them to see which elements they had yet to identify. "Doesn't matter how hard I try, I can_not_ do chemistry," Artie muttered, looking over the page he'd written on helium.

Finn squinted over Artie's shoulder. "Dude, that one's wrong."

"Huh?"

Reaching over and turning the notebook slightly towards him so his neck wasn't bent at an odd angle, Finn's eyes flickered over Artie's messy handwriting and he nodded. "Yeah, helium doesn't glow pink when it's charged in a vacuum tube – hydrogen does."

Artie frowned at his notes again. "Really?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Helium is orange, hydrogen is pink."

"Huh." Artie looked over the notes once more, then erased a few words and wrote down the new information. "Told you I didn't get this stuff."

Finn smiled to himself. As much as his brain was totally freaking him out, he liked being able to get things right. Especially when he was partners with Artie, the Glee club's resident nerd. Not only did it make him feel competent to be able to correct Artie's academic work, but it also made him feel competent _without_ having to deal with people wondering if there was something wrong with him. That was the main reason he liked Artie – he was laidback. He took everything Finn said or did in stride and didn't give him weird looks whenever Finn said something remotely intelligent.

On the downside, though, getting along with Artie was bringing down his rep outside of the choir room. As cool as Artie was in person, he was still a nerd – and a paraplegic nerd at that. Finn was guilty by association. If Artie could name every issue of _X-men_ from 1970 onwards, then so could Finn. If Artie had a bumper sticker on the back of his wheelchair reading _JOSS IS BOSS_, then Finn must be able to quote any episode of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _or_ Firefly_. And if Artie believed that artificial gravity would soon be a tangible development in technology, then so did Finn.

"Holy crap! Magnetism!" Finn exclaimed suddenly.

Artie's head slowly swiveled around to give Finn an odd stare. _So much for no weird looks._ "That was…random," he commented.

Finn gave his head a shake. "Sorry. Just had an idea."

"About what?"

"Artificial gravity," Finn admitted sheepishly.

Artie's eyes lit up and he put down his pencil. _Uh-oh. Curse of the were-nerd._ "Artificial gravity?" he repeated. "Do tell."

Finn glanced over his shoulder to make sure Mr. Harding was occupied. "Okay, you know how there's like a ton of iron in the human body?"

"Yeah…"

"Iron's one of the metals that can be easily magnetized. If you could figure out some way to magnetize the iron particles in an astronaut's body just the right amount so that it wouldn't hurt his systems, then – then you could just stick magnets under the floors on a space shuttle and you have artificial gravity."

Artie's eyes widened. "_Dude…_" was all he said.

* * *

**A/N: Nerds of the world unite! And review!**


	10. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine_

All things considered – namely that Finn was turning into Einstein so quickly that Kurt half expected him to sprout crazy white hair – it had been a pretty normal day for Kurt. His classes had been uneventful, lunchtime with his entourage had been filled with gossip, and during Glee he and Rachel had gotten into a rather loud spat about who got to sing the lead in _Boogie Wonderland_.

He supposed the normalcy could last for only so long, though.

As he shut off the engine of his Navigator and walked inside, exhausted after an extended Cheerios practice, he entered the living room to find Finn hunched over a notebook on the coffee table, scribbling away amidst leaves of paper that had been _covered_ with diagrams, notes and equations. And sitting across the coffee table, scrutinizing a second notebook and a science textbook simultaneously, was Artie.

"See, the problem is to get the _strength_ of the magnets right," Finn was saying to the wheelchair-bound boy. "You get it too strong and the guy can't lift his leg and you might muck up the guy's body by pulling on all the iron. Probably kill him in a day or two. But if you get it too weak, then he'd have bone deterioration and they'd have to have a cycling machine or something to keep his legs healthy."

"Well, they already have that," Artie stated.

"Exactly," Finn said. "So, get it too strong and you might kill the guy, but get it too weak and there's no point in using it." He sighed, chewing on the end of his pencil. "_Damn_, I wish we could get our hands on the blueprints of an actual shuttle."

"Hey, Kurt," Artie said, looking up with a smile.

Finn turned around to see his stepbrother standing in the doorway, staring at them with his jaw hanging open. "Hey, man, what's up?"

"_What_ are you working on?"

"Oh, we're developing some ideas for artificial gravity," Artie piped up.

Kurt blinked once, very slowly. "I'm…going to go change," he said, turning and striding quickly out of the room.

"What's his problem?" Artie said.

Finn shrugged. "He's been a little weirded out by me lately. Guess most of you guys have."

"What do you mean?"

"You know…me dancing, getting things, understanding them…" Finn said, a little awkwardly. "Rachel almost flipped a shit when I corrected some metaphor she used yesterday."

Artie laughed. "What I would have given to see _that_. Well, the dancing was a little freaky, I'll give you that, but I don't get why someone being smart is such a big deal."

Finn gave him the Hudson Goofy Grin®. "Thanks, man."

"_Do_ you know why it's happening, though?" Artie asked.

Finn probably would have bristled at the question, but Artie hadn't said it in a who-are-you-and-what-did-you-do-with-Finn way. It was just simple curiosity rather than concern. Finn shook his head. "No, no idea. I've been in and out of the doctors' offices, though, and they're doing all sorts of tests and stuff, but none of them know anything either. Apparently I've got an IQ of like, two hundred or something."

Artie coughed. "Two _hundred?_" he cried. "Are you serious?"

"You are not allowed to tell anyone I said that."

"Then…why did you say it?" Artie asked, frowning.

Finn sighed, dropping the notebook onto the table and sinking back into the couch cushions. "I dunno, man. I guess I just wanted to be able to tell someone who isn't Kurt or my mom."

"And…Puck—?

Finn shrugged. "He's been giving me the same weird looks everyone else has. He won't say so, but he's pretty freaked out."

"Oh." Artie paused, evaluating Finn's stressed expression. Finally, he spoke again. "Well, I have an extra pair of glasses in my bag if you need them."

Finn frowned. "What? Why would I need those?"

Artie shrugged. "I just figured that since you're the smartest guy in school, you might want to complete the nerd image."

"…You have a really weird sense of humor, you know that?"

"I've been told once or twice, yeah," Artie admitted, grinning from ear to ear. "You want 'em?"

Finn laughed. "I'm not a nerd, man."

"No, of course you're not. All the McKinley jocks spend their free time analyzing magnetic responses to develop artificial gravity. You know, Dave Karofsky's also got three terrariums in his basement."

"Shut up and help me figure this out, will you?"

* * *

"FINN CHARLES JAMES HUDSON! YOU GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE IN FIVE SECONDS OR SO HELP ME I WILL BREAK EVERY VAN MORRISSON CD YOU OWN IN HALF!"

"Jesus _Christ_, Kurt," Finn said as he walked into the garage. Kurt looked like he'd blown a fuse. "What?"

"WHAT THE _HELL_ DID YOU DO TO MY BABY?" Kurt screeched, an arm flailing towards where his Navigator sat in the back of the shop, its hood open and several tubes running into the engine.

"_Volume_, man," Finn begged with a wince. "I'm in the room; I can hear you."

"_ANSWER THE GODDAMN QUESTION!_"

"All right! All right! Jeez," Finn said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "Relax. I'm fixing your mileage."

"My _what!_"

"Look, c'mere," Finn said, striding over to Kurt's baby. "See these tubes? They're attached to this pump over here, and it's running a cleaning fluid through your engine. Once it's done, I'll take the engine apart, replace a few bits and pieces here and there, reroute the exhaust and gas lines, and you'll get maybe ninety miles to the gallon 'stead of the thirty you get now."

Kurt stared at him, agape. "And what the _hell_ made you think you could experiment on my car?"

"Burt said I could!" Finn defended himself.

Kurt threw up his hands and turned around, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying _very_ hard not to grab Finn by the lapels and shake him until his IQ dropped back to 109. Then the garage door opened and Burt entered, carrying a box of donuts under one arm and whistling.

"_You!_" Kurt bellowed in a surprisingly deep register. Burt froze like a deer in headlights. "You let Finn experiment on my car!"

"He's not experimenting," Burt said slowly. As the only man in the room who was fully used to Kurt's periodic bitch-fits, he knew it was his job to maintain the calm as much as he could. "He did the same thing for that Puckerman kid's truck yesterday. It works."

Kurt whipped back to see Finn smirking slightly. "You're ganging up on me. I hate you both."

"Aw, come on, Kurt," Finn said, still smirking. "Think about it – if you get ninety miles to the gallon, then you'll have more money for clothes."

Kurt's fingers curled. "You _so_ owe me a shopping trip."

"Huh?"

"Your fixation with plaid has got to go."

Finn suddenly looked scared. Burt grinned to himself and slipped into the office unnoticed – he'd leave the boys to gripe it out amongst themselves. "Dude, you mean you want—?"

"To give you a makeover, yes."

"No. No frikkin' _way_."

Now it was Kurt's turn to smirk. "You're a smart guy, Finn. Your wardrobe should match. And trust me, right now, it _doesn't_."

"Get away from me!"

"Come on, Finn, denim jackets are so last century."

Finn made a break for it, dashing back into the house. Kurt bounded after him, shouting about how fantastic he'd look in a Valentino tux. Kurt found that Finn was not in the kitchen and, determined to corner his gargantuan stepbrother and torture him with promises of fashion and flair, went on the hunt for him, calling taunts of the Marc Jacobs and Gabbana variety throughout the house.

He found Finn in the upstairs hallway, bent over with one hand braced against the wall, and rushed to his side. "Finn. Finn, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Finn said, his voice strained and his eyes squeezed shut. "Just don't…don't feel good."

"Is it your stomach?"

"Yeah – well, no… It's just…I feel really _dizzy_."

* * *

**A/N: Whee! That one was fun to write! I love writing devious!Kurt. Now, quick message: I just got an order for a bunch of scarves that need to be made, which means that I'm probably gonna be working on my loom full-time for the next day or two. So, don't worry if the updates suddenly stop for a bit - I'm just working, and I'll be back VERY soon. That being said, leave a review!**


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: You guys are lucky I have a housemate, which means that I can't be working on my (very loud) loom all night and in turn means that I have time to write.**

**

* * *

**_Chapter Ten_**  
**

"_Dad!_"

Burt could barely hear Kurt's voice from the office, but it was enough to distract him from his bills. Immediately, he rushed into the house.

"_Dad!_" Kurt called again. He was upstairs. "_Dad!_"

"I'm here, I'm here," Burt said as he reached the top of the stairs. He found his son and stepson in the bathroom, and the latter was currently bent over the toilet bowl. "Jeez, buddy, you sick?"

"He just got really dizzy and nauseous all of a sudden," Kurt said, his hands on Finn's shoulders. "Dad, could you get a glass of seltzer or Sprite or something from the kitchen?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, hopping back downstairs.

"Are you feeling any better?" Kurt asked.

"Not since the last time you asked me," Finn choked out. "Ugh…the room's spinning…"

Kurt rubbed his back. "Dad's getting you something to settle your stomach."

Finn grimaced as the very thought of eating or drinking anything made his gut roll. "Fuck…here it comes…"

Kurt winced in sympathy as the muscles in Finn's back went taut and he emptied his stomach into the toilet.

"…Ew…"

After reaching over to pull the flush handle, Kurt helped ease Finn back against the wall of the bathtub. "Better?"

Finn nodded slightly, his eyes still shut against the bright light of the bathroom. "Yeah, a little. I think it was something I ate."

Kurt chuckled slightly, shaking his head. "An IQ of nearly two hundred and you still don't have the common sense to stay away from McDonald's."

There was a shuffling on the stairwell, and then Burt reappeared in the doorway with a glass of Sprite in his hand. "Here you go, buddy. Drink it slowly."

"Thanks, Dad. I think we're good," Kurt replied, taking the glass and handing it to Finn, who did as he was told.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Okay. Call me if you need anything," Burt said, casting one last concerned look at Finn. "Feel better, kiddo."

Finn managed a weak nod, and Burt went back downstairs. Kurt leaned against the wall, studying his stepbrother.

"What?"

Kurt shook his head. "Nothing."

"Dude, I can practically hear you thinking. Spit it out."

"Are you scared?"

Finn's brows snapped together. "Scared of what?"

"Your next tests are tomorrow," Kurt said. "If I were in your place, I'd probably be terrified."

Finn gave a one-shoulder shrug. "I dunno. A little. I mean, the tests themselves don't scare me much, but…"

"Rawlings?" Kurt guessed.

"Yeah. I hate that guy."

"Me too, Finn. Me too."

* * *

Finn's dizzy spell faded quickly, and he was back in the garage working within the hour. The next morning, Kurt walked into the kitchen for his routine cup of coffee and looked out the window to see the Navigator parked out front, looking just as shiny as before, like it hadn't been touched. Frowning, Kurt grabbed his mug and ventured into the garage, where Finn was looking at the shop bills and receipts piled up on Burt's desk.

"Finn, were you up all night working on my car?"

"No. I finished at about one."

"Please tell me you got some sleep after that." Finn didn't say anything, and Kurt sighed. "Finn, you haven't slept in almost a month."

"Yeah, I know," Finn replied, a little tight-lipped. The shadows beneath his eyes had gotten deeper.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking over Burt's budget. If he makes a couple changes here and there he could make an extra three thousand a year."

"Really?" Kurt said, astonished. Then he shook his head. "No, I meant what are you doing when you should be sleeping?"

"Don't act like my mom, Kurt, that's not your job."

"I'm just concerned—"

Suddenly, Kurt was cut off as Finn slammed Burt's finance binder down on the desk. "Dammit, Kurt, I _know_ you're concerned!" he shouted. "You're concerned about everything I do nowadays!"

Kurt took a step back. "Finn, this is really unlike you—"

"_I KNOW!_" Finn's face was turning red. "_Everything_ I do is unlike me!"

"What are you—" Kurt started. But Finn had already turned on his heel and stormed back into the house, leaving Kurt confused and wondering what it was he had done.

* * *

"Puck. Can we talk?"

"Look, I know you're Finn's stepbrother and all that shit, but you and me really aren't friends," Puck said, shutting his locker and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm not trying to be buddy-buddy with you, _Puckerman_," he spat. "It's about Finn."

Puck frowned. "What about Finn?"

Kurt told him what had happened in the garage that morning, explaining exactly what Finn had said and done, and also what he himself had said.

"…Okay, what do you want me to do about it?" Puck asked when Kurt was done, giving him a noncommittal look. Kurt could see that the rusty gears in Puck's head were turning as he processed what he'd been told, though.

"Like you said when we were playing basketball – you know him better than me, you know how to read him. I can't tell what made him act like that."

Puck pursed his lips. "Neither can I."

"Really? You don't have _any_ idea?"

"Hummel, I'm his best friend, not the angel on his shoulder," Puck snapped. "I never know exactly what's going on in his head."

Kurt squinted at him. "So you're saying that his behavior was out of character?"

Puck sighed in resignation. "Yeah. If everything happened the way you said it did, then there's something other shit going on that we don't know about."

Kurt nodded. "Okay."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"You're scheming. Don't." Puck gave him a pointed glare.

"I am _not_."

"I dated Berry for a week, Hummel. I can tell when people are scheming. Seriously, don't. It'll just piss Finn off and it won't get you anywhere."

Kurt sighed. He'd never thought he'd have to take sage advice from Noah Puckerman, but the Neanderthal was right. "Okay," he said. "Thanks, Puck."

"We're done?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now get out of here before Karofsky or Azimio sees you talking to me."

* * *

"You look exquisite today."

"Jacob, I am not of the inclination to answer any of your ridiculously personal questions today. You may as well turn around and walk in the other direction."

Jacob, as per the usual, was not deterred.

"I have several sources reporting that your off-and-on beau Finn Hudson has been experiencing some major personality shifts in recent weeks. Would you care to confirm?"

"No, I would not. Get out of my way, please."

When Jacob didn't step aside to let Rachel pass through the door to the choir room, her mouth twitched and she lost her cool. "Jacob, I have plenty of your past acts on record – nearly all of them of the sexual assault nature – and I'll have you know that there's more than enough to land you in juvenile prison. As you probably know, especially considering the fact that you _stalk_ me, my two gay dads have a very close relationship with the Ohio branch of the ACLU, and they—"

The venomous waterfall of words falling from her mouth was interrupted, however, by another voice.

"God, shut _up_, Berry," Santana snapped, Brittany trailing behind her. Rachel opened her mouth to snap right back, but Santana kept talking, and this time her sarcasm was directed at Jacob. "Listen up, Ben Israel. From now on, every member of the Glee club is off-limits. You don't talk to us, you don't interact – you avoid us like the Black Fucking Plague. And if I catch you breaking that rule, then I will make damn sure that every girl in this school knows that you have genital herpes. Are we clear?"

"I don't have—"

"_Are we clear?_"

Jacob gulped, already beginning to back away from the door. "Crystal," he said before making a run for it down the hall.

Santana turned to smirk at Rachel. "_That_ is how you threaten someone, Berry."

* * *

**A/N: Drama, drama, drama. Next chapter, we have more doctor's tests! Will there be results? Who knows? I do!**


	12. Chapter 11

_Chapter Eleven_

Kurt didn't get a chance to confront Finn about what had happened in the garage, since he and both Burt and Carole had left before last period to drive to the hospital in Columbus. Apparently Rawlings had called the state's top neurologist to sit in on the tests as a consultant, which had only made Finn more nervous as his condition's seriousness elevated. Glee practice consisted mainly of Mercedes nearly ripping Rachel a new one as she rattled on about the importance of teamwork and complained about Finn's absence. Kurt finally decided to step in with a calm "Rachel, for your information, Finn had an important medical appointment that he couldn't afford to miss. So…shut up."

Now, it was almost seven-thirty, and Kurt's dad and stepfamily still hadn't gotten back. Kurt normally didn't mind being home alone, but neither Burt nor Carole were answering the cell phones, and it was making him anxious. He tried for over an hour to concentrate on his English homework, but finally threw his copy of _King Henry V_ onto his desk and went upstairs. Maybe there was a rerun of Project Runway on TV or something.

Kurt had almost dozed off on the couch when he heard a car pull into the driveway. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw that it was nearly nine, and he shut the TV off, rushing toward the front door. Burt and Carole were just climbing out of the car.

"Where's Finn?" Kurt called.

"Shush," Carole said. "He's in the back. He's asleep."

Kurt sighed in relief. "What happened?"

Burt gave his son's shoulder a squeeze. "I'll tell you later. Let's just get Finn inside."

It was difficult to move a barely-conscious six-foot-four seventeen-year old, but somehow Kurt and Burt managed to get Finn out of the car and into the house, letting him drop heavily onto the couch.

"Jesus," Kurt said as Finn mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, his arm trailing on the floor. "Did they give him sleeping pills?"

"Injection, actually," Burt said, walking back into the kitchen, where Carole was brewing tea for herself and Kurt. "Since the pills didn't work, they had to give him something stronger. He was out before we left the hospital; we had to use a wheelchair to get him to the car."

"Wow." Kurt sat at the table across from his father. "So…what happened? What did the doctor say?"

"Well, they certainly put him through his paces," Carole said. "I can't think of a single thing they _didn't_ test him for."

"You shoulda seen him during the reflex exam," Burt said, taking his hat off and rubbing a hand over his bald scalp. He yawned.

"Reflex exam?" Kurt echoed.

"Yeah, they put him in a room and had one of those machines that shoots tennis balls."

Kurt gave his head a shake. "That's…weird. And what about the other doctor? The neurologist?"

"Dr. MacPherson." Carole sat down, handing Kurt his tea. "He's a goddamn shark."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the venom in his stepmother's voice; Burt placed a soothing hand on her forearm. "You know that he can't do anything without consent."

"What happened?" Kurt prompted.

Burt sighed. "The guy wants to do brain surgery. _Exploratory_ brain surgery."

"That's – that's…" Kurt stammered. "God, I don't even know what that is. That's disturbing."

"Yeah, well, he's not going anywhere near that kid with a scalpel, you can be sure of that," Burt growled.

"And what about the IQ test?"

Carole and Burt exchanged a look, making the worry in Kurt's gut rise up again. "MacPherson and Rawlings said that his IQ went even higher since the MRI," Carole said.

"What? How much higher?"

"Another fifteen points."

"In a _week?_"

"But they said it's slowing down," Burt explained. "They figure he'll hit the peak at around two-forty-five, sometime within the next month."

"That's…insane," Kurt breathed. "And they still have _no idea_ why this is happening?"

Carole sighed. "No. The CT was clean, the lumbar puncture was clean, the blood scans were clean. Everything was clean. There's nothing."

* * *

"Dude, where's Finn?"

Kurt turned around from his locker to find Puck approaching him. "He's at home."

"Why?"

"He's not feeling well."

"Is this something to do with his doctor thing yesterday and all the weird shit he's been doing?" When Kurt didn't reply, Puck snarled, "Look, man, if you don't give me a straight answer, I can easily call Karofsky and Azimio, because they have been _dying_ to toss you in the dumpster."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I hope you realize just how empty your threats really sound. Finn is at home right now because his sleeping meds hadn't worn off by this morning."

Puck's brows snapped together, the vaguely threatening expression vanishing only to be replaced with one of consternation. "Sleeping meds?"

Kurt frowned. "You didn't know he's having trouble sleeping?"

"I had a hunch. I mean, the guy came into school looking like _Night of the Living Dead_ – it was kinda obvious there was something up," Puck said. He leaned against the wall of lockers. "What kinda trouble?"

Heaving his massive history textbook into his bag, Kurt replied, "Well, last night was the first time he's actually slept in a full month. And that was only because they drugged him."

"Holy shit."

"We're in agreement." Kurt studied him. "Wait, why hasn't Finn told you this already?"

Puck shrugged nonchalantly, but there seemed to be something more, something he wasn't willing to admit. "In case you didn't notice, Finn's been weird lately."

"Do I sense some bitterness?" Kurt asked, tilting his head to the side.

"What the fuck, Hummel? Don't analyze me."

Kurt sighed, forcing himself to soften up (which really just sounded silly when one was speaking to Noah Puckerman). "Puck, I know you may be a little bit jealous about the fact that I know more about what's going on with Finn than you do, but I—"

"Seriously, Hummel, fuck off."

"First of all, _you're_ standing at _my_ locker," Kurt stated. "And second, have you noticed that the number of curse words punctuating your dialogue increases greatly when you're emotionally unstable?"

"…What?"

Kurt sighed. "You swear more when you're pissed," he translated.

"What the fuck did I _just_ say about analyzing me?"

"See? Swearing again. As I was saying, I know you might be a little bit jealous, but Finn and I are stepbrothers, and that entitles me to certain insights into his private life, especially since the two of us share a room. But you are still his best friend. He hasn't kicked you to the curb." Kurt hefted his bag onto his shoulder. "He'll be back to school tomorrow; you can talk to him then."

* * *

**A/N: I love writing Puck/Kurt interactions. Leave a review!**


	13. Chapter 12

_Chapter Twelve_

The days ticked by, stretching into weeks, and everyone adjusted. It had gradually become normal for Finn to be engaged in deep discussions with Artie in between classes and Glee, though after their brief artificial gravity obsession, Kurt avoided asking what they were talking about. At least once a day, Finn would interrupt a conversation and say something like, "Did you know that if the amount of time since life first appeared on this planet was a 24-hour clock, humans would've only existed for the last ten seconds?" And eventually, these random facts stopped bringing the conversations to a screeching halt.

It was soon normal for Finn to every so often suddenly display a new talent – by this point he was fluent in Spanish (Mr. Schue had gotten his language requirement waived), threw perfect touchdowns in every football match, and could play guitar (Puck had mercilessly called him August Rush for nearly a week after that had developed), as well as immediately understanding every mechanical problem that was brought into Hummel Tires and Lube.

After getting his raise, Finn quickly paid off Ms. Corcoran and quit Sheets 'N Things, instead finding a position in Lima's local computer repair shop. The tech guys had watched him dubiously when he'd inquired after a job – one of the higher-ranked employees was Azimio's older brother Gabriel, and so they knew who Finn was and were subsequently confused as to why he was looking for a job in a _nerd_ shop. They had been about five seconds away from turning him down when he glanced at the laptop Gabriel was trying to repair and ended up solving the problem in less than five minutes.

Kurt had quickly adapted to having the fish tank in the bedroom, though as soon as there was the slightest sign of grime buildup on the glass walls of the tank he was pestering Finn to clean it. He supposed it was kind of adorable, especially since Finn had given all the fish surprisingly fitting names (the vacant-eyed goldfish had been christened Brittany), but he'd die before he let Finn treat the tank the same way he treated his laundry.

But best of all, Jacob Ben Israel found other things to focus his blog on.

Finn was continuing his periodic appointments in Columbus, and always came back from them so drugged up that it wasn't worth trying to find out how the meeting went until the next day. MacPherson and Rawlings had apparently decided to play Finn's case close to the chest – they only brought other department heads and medical professors in for consultation and observation during Finn's appointments. When Burt and Carole had asked why they were keeping the case relatively secretive, MacPherson had answered that they "didn't want to present Finn to the medical world until they knew what was causing his symptoms." Finn, however, had been in the room at the time and snapped that he didn't like being referred to like an object to be studied and stormed out before they could give him his sleeping meds. Kurt had his suspicions that the only reason that the doctors hadn't notified the press yet was because they didn't want to run the risk of someone else diagnosing Finn and then having to sharing credit for the discovery.

The nights after his appointments were the only nights Finn slept – the rest he milled about upstairs, either reading (he was up to four books a night) or trying to occupy himself with hands-on work in the garage, or he just lay in bed, watching his fish and hoping for sleep. But sleep rarely came, and when it did come it was for only a few restless minutes before he was wide awake again. The shadows beneath his eyes were growing deeper by the day, and he'd even started losing weight, though his eating habits hadn't lessened in the slightest. He miserably guessed that his nightmare of turning into _The Machinist_ was slowly becoming true, which was disturbing on more than one level, and wondered if he'd ever sleep normally again.

As for his sudden blow-up at Kurt in the garage, neither of them had actually talked about it. Kurt seemed to be waiting for Finn to breach the subject, but what ended up happening was the both of them pretending it never happened, and within a couple days Kurt was back to threatening him with makeovers and possibly leeches in his bed if he didn't clean the fish tank. (The threats were pretty unnecessary, considering he was actually really good about keeping the tank clean, but whatever. He supposed Kurt got some sort of sick enjoyment out of the torture, so he went along with it.) Finn had managed to stop himself from flying off the handle at his stepbrother again, but at least once a day he found himself suddenly growing irritated with Kurt for no apparent reason, even when Kurt was talking about something that had nothing to do with Finn. And that unsettled him.

So, seeking out solitude and room to think, Finn took to spending most of his free time during the school day in the choir room. Mr. Schuester had asked him about twenty times if he was all right when the habit first developed, but eventually stopped asking and just said a hurried "Hey, Finn, what's up?" any time he passed by on the way into his office annex.

It was during one of these retreats that Tina walked into the choir room to find Finn puttering around on the piano.

"Was that 'Clocks'?" she asked after listening for a minute. "By Coldplay?"

He jumped and twisted around on the piano bench. "Oh, hey, Tina. I didn't hear you come in." She walked up to the side of the piano, her hands shoved deep in her hoodie pockets. "Yeah, Brad's been showing me a couple things on the keys," he explained.

Tina leaned her elbows against the shiny black piano top. "I think that's really cool, that you can learn all this stuff so fast."

He shrugged. "I dunno. I think it's freaking most people out."

"It did at first," she admitted. "Most of us have gotten used to it."

"Yeah, maybe. What are you doing in here? Isn't it lunchtime?"

"Yeah. It's just… I like eating lunch by myself every once in a while." She suddenly became engrossed in inspecting her black nail polish.

"Hey, we all need alone time every so often," he said with a lopsided smile, plunking out the opening tune for 'Clocks' again.

Tina abruptly stood up straight. "I'm sorry, did you want to be by yourself? I shouldn't have barged in, I'm sorry—"

"Whoa, Tina, relax. Seriously. It's fine. You can stay; I don't mind."

"Oh. Thanks." A few minutes passed in silence except for the light music coming from the piano, and eventually Tina spoke again. "So…any more spontaneous dance acts coming up?"

Finn couldn't help but laugh at that. "Not that I know of. By the way, it was _not_ my choice to do Shakira. Santana's freaking _scary_."

Tina eyes widened in amusement. "Why? What'd she do?"

"She kept threatening to put my balls in a mason jar."

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me."

"I guess it's only normal for Coach Sylvester's second-in-command, though."

Tina giggled. "So…the piano. That's new."

Finn stopped playing. "Any requests?" he asked.

"No, I'm good."

Finn tilted his head to the side, studying her for a second. "You don't actually like being in the background, do you?"

Her gaze snapped up, and she looked like a deer in headlights. "What?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, that was rude. Forget I said anything."

She nodded, seeming relieved to go along with it. After a few moments of awkward silence, she ventured to say, "Thanks for hanging with Artie, by the way."

Finn frowned. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "He really only hangs out with me, Kurt, and Mercedes. I don't get half the things he says, and Kurt and Cedes are always teasing him about—"

"Being a nerd?"

"Yeah. He laughs it off, but I can tell that he doesn't really like it," she said, fiddling with the frayed shirtsleeve of her hoodie. "That, and he's really the only guy in the group."

"Tina, Artie's a cool guy. You don't need to thank me for hanging with him," Finn said. "And for what it's worth, I don't think he's actually a nerd. I mean, yeah, he's a comic book freak and he knows more about Joss Whedon's stuff than Joss Whedon, but I think he's a lot more like Puck than he lets on."

Tina grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, I am _so_ telling him you said that."

Finn blanched. "Please don't. He'll run me over." Tina giggled again. "But seriously, I like hanging out with him. It feels good to be able to bounce my ideas off of someone."

Tina raised her eyebrows, silently prompting him to continue.

"I mean, Puck's great, and he's my best friend and all, but… I dunno, he just acts weird whenever I start talking about the stuff I'm learning."

"Yeah," she acknowledged.

"I'm just…I'm not a smart guy, you know? I don't know what I'm supposed to do with all this stuff."

Tina shrugged. "Use it."

"For _what?_ It's not like I can actually put an idea about improving solar power to use when I'm stuck in high school," he said glumly. "I can't afford the stuff to build a solar panel, and I'm not sure my mom would let me put one on the roof anyways."

"So write a paper about it. Get it out and save it for later, when you _do_ have the resources," Tina said with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Plan ahead."

"You're starting to sound like Rachel."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

"Well, I don't see how I could get the resources at any time in the future. Like, working in the tire shop is great and it lets me actually _do_ something, but…it's simple. And it's not great money. Same with the computer place."

"Can you even hear yourself right now?"

Finn was taken aback. "Huh?"

"Finn, you have an IQ of well over two hundred. Every college you look at will be _begging_ you to go there. You probably won't even have to _apply_ to MIT. You'll get scholarships. You don't need to rely on football to get you places any more." She stopped, letting what she'd said sink in, and then fiddled with one of the safety pins in her cuff. "You're lucky," she muttered quietly.

He sighed, running a hand over his hair. "I guess so. It's still hard getting used to the idea, though, you know? I mean, Puck still calls me dumbass."

Tina couldn't help but let out a small giggle. "Really?"

"Yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess." Finn frowned suddenly. "Wait, how did you know my IQ?"

Tina gave him a pointed look. "You told Kurt and Artie."

Finn laughed. While Kurt, Mercedes, Artie, and Tina could all keep a secret from the rest of the school without incident, none of them could keep one from each other.

"Can I ask you something?" Tina ventured.

"Shoot."

"…What's it like?"

Finn exhaled heavily through his nose, trying to figure out how to word it best. "It's like having a sponge for a brain," he finally answered. "You know, I'm absorbing all this water and it just keeps on building up, but…eventually it's gonna have no place to go but out."

Tina frowned, a mixture of confusion and worry on her face. "That sounds violent. What do you mean?"

"I have no idea."

* * *

**A/N: I should probably clear this up so you guys don't think I'm heading off in a different direction: In the fanfiction world, I ship Puck/Tina, Kurt/Matt, and Mike/Mercedes. In the actual show, however, I ship Puck/Mercedes, Finn/Tina, and Tina/Mike. NONE OF THESE HAVE *ANY*THING TO DO WITH MY PLOTS. It just means that I couldn't help including a little Finn/Tina bonding scene. Don't read too much into this. Yes, I'm talking to you. I know your secret fluff bunny just woke up. Euthanize it before it dies miserably of disappointment.**


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: Yay! One hundred reviews! You guys are awesome and wonderful and all sorts of epic.**

**Quick Note: About fifteen people have reviewed or PMed me asking if this is related to Flower For Algernon. While I've heard the title several times, I had no idea what it was about before I started writing this story, and I have never read it, so any similarities are purely coincidental.**

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_Chapter Thirteen_

It was another one of Mr. Schue's crazy assignments meant to teach a moral lesson. "I want you guys to get out of your boxes!" Like they hadn't heard _that_ one a billion times before. "Next week, you will all perform a song that _nobody_ will expect you to sing. Try to find something that you've never even attempted before, but still fits you and who you are." (Kurt heard Santana snort at that.) "Oh, and one more thing – you're not allowed to tell anyone what song you're performing. It has to be a secret until the performance. Don't tell _anybody_."

Kurt knew that Schue was looking at him and Mercedes for a reason.

Finn drew the same performance slot as Kurt, meaning that they would both perform on Wednesday afternoon. All the performances were held in the auditorium for full theatrical effect, so certain members of the club (namely Rachel and Kurt) were really going all-out in their preparations.

Mike had drawn the first slot, and so on Monday afternoon the club was treated to a quite hilarious and energetic delivery of "Make 'Em Laugh" from _Singing in the Rain_, and afterwards Puck had swaggered onto the stage and surprised them all with "The Oogie Boogie Song" from _Nightmare Before Christmas_. (When he'd sat down, he'd given them all a death glare and said very seriously, "_Everybody_ likes Tim Burton.") On Tuesday, Santana had belted a Patsy Cline classic, followed by Artie popping wheelies and one-wheel spins while singing David Bowie's "Golden Years". And then came Wednesday.

Finn had arranged for only a single spotlight to shine down on the piano, and so the rest of the club was shrouded in darkness as he took his seat on the piano bench. There was no music playing over the speakers, and he slowly began to play a semi-complicated series of chords. The microphone had been set up for him to sing into it from his seated position, and as the opening sequence of notes faded and was replaced with the song's melody, he began to sing. "_All life is related. And it enables us to construct with confidence the complex tree that represents the history of life._"

It was an odd sort of tune, almost like Finn was simply talking, but it was soothing and beautiful as well. Still, the words made most of the Glee clubbers quirk their eyebrows.

"_Our planet, the Earth, is as far as we know unique in the universe – it contains life. Here, plants and animals proliferate in such numbers that we still have not even named all the different species_."

It was also a little strange how…calm? No, that wasn't right. How _unburdened_ Finn looked while he was performing this particular song.

"_Darwin's great insight revolutionized the way in which we see the world – we now understand why there are so many different species_." The piano resonated, accenting Finn's voice. "_Every cell is a triumph of natural selection, and we're made of trillions of cells – within us is a universe. Those are some of the things that molecules do… Given four billion years of evolution, we are each of us a multitude._"

As Finn performed, Tina thought back to her conversation with him in the choir room, remembering what he'd said about his information absorption. _It'll just keep building up until it's got no place to go but out._ Maybe this was it, Finn releasing some of the knowledge he'd retained. Letting the water out of the reservoir. It was…sort of incredible.

"_It began in the sea, some three thousand million years ago. Complex chemical molecules began to clump together,_" Finn told them. "_These were the seeds from which the Tree of Life developed. They were able to split, replicating themselves as bacteria do._

"_The secrets of evolution are time and death – there's an unbroken thread that stretches from those first cells to us._"

Rachel sat forward a little in her seat, for the first time in her life not really paying attention to which notes the performer was reaching or hunting for mistakes and actually listening to the lyrics regardless of whether they fit the emotional situation in the room or not. The song didn't rhyme, but it didn't sound off, either. It sounded…professional. Flowing.

"_Every cell is a triumph of natural selection, and we're made of trillions of cells – within us is a universe. Those are some of the things that molecules do… Given four billion years of evolution, we are each of us a multitude._" Finn's fingers swept down the keyboard, the melody swelling for the song's bridge. "_There isn't a sharp line dividing human from the rest of the animal kingdom – it's a very hazy line. It's a very hazy line, and it's getting hazier all the time. We find animals doing things that we, in our arrogance, used to think was just human. It's a very hazy line and it's getting hazier all the time._

"_Every cell is a triumph of natural selection, and we're made of trillions of cells – within us is a universe. Those are some of the things that molecules do… Given four billion years of evolution, we are, each of us, a multitude._"

When the song ended and the last chords had faded away, there was a slightly stunned silence that settled over the club as they tried to process what had just happened onstage. Finn fidgeted as he really they were all staring at him. "So…does this mean I surprised you guys with my song choice?"

Mr. Schue laughed, wearing that weird sickeningly-proud smile he sometimes got when one of the Glee kids did something meaningful, whether or not they were actually aware of the meaning behind their actions. "I would definitely say we were surprised. Fantastic job, Finn. Great song choice." He started clapping, prompting the others to applaud as well, but it was clear that most of them were still trying to figure out why he'd been singing about cells and evolution.

The confusion was replaced with a small ripple of excitement when Mr. Schue announced that it was Kurt's turn – regardless of what he was singing, Kurt was always the one (besides Rachel) to really go all-out in his performances, so the club knew they were in for a good show whenever he stepped up onstage.

The single white spotlight was replaced with blood-red lighting from the back of the stage as Kurt took the microphone off its stand. Two smaller white spotlights from offstage shot through the red light and spun around the stage, flashing over Kurt and lighting him momentarily before he was swallowed up again by the red. When the music suddenly blasted through the speakers, the majority of the club recognized the song immediately and erupted into excited cheers.

"_Say, hey!_" Kurt shouted into the mic. "_Hear the sound of the falling rain! Coming down like an Armageddon flame; the shame, the ones who died without a name!_" He was singing lower than he usually did, but not by much, and it gave the song an unusually raw quality that even Rachel appreciated. "_Hear the dogs howling out of key! To a hymn called Faith and Misery; and bleed, the company lost the war today…_"

As he launched into the chorus, Kurt pumped his fist in the air, looking a little giddy with stage rush. "_I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies! This is the dawning of the rest of our lives! On holiday!_"

The music's tempo and volume increased, and two more white lights from the back of the stage lit up, shuttering on and off in time with the drumline. "_Hear the drum pounding out of time! Another protestor has crossed the line to find, the money's on the other side!_"

Finn watched as his stepbrother performed, figuring that he should have seen this coming after he found Kurt experimenting with guyliner at his vanity mirror two days ago. Kurt had stammered that he was just trying out a new look, but Finn should have guessed that he was trying to see if the Green Day look would work with his planned costume. (The answer was no, the look did _not_ work. Not on Kurt, anyway.)

"_Can I get another 'Amen'?_" Kurt sang.

"_Amen!_" the club shouted, laughing and making Finn jump. He hadn't expected them to actually respond to the song, and from Kurt's pleased expression, neither had he.

"_There's a flag wrapped around a score of men, a gag, a plastic bag on the monument!_"

By the time Kurt returned to the chorus, most of the Gleeks were on their feet, cheering, and they shouted the words along with him. Finn winced, a little nauseous, and wished they would decrease the volume just a little.

"_I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies! This is the dawning of the rest of out lives! On holiday!_"

At the musical interlude, Kurt spun around and burst into a sequence of hip-hop moves that he _had_ to have learned from Mike. The lights flashed rapidly, giving a choppy look to Kurt's movements. Finn shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling like the room was spinning.

Kurt, on the other hand, was reveling in the spotlight. It was no secret that he loved performing, but this was unlike most of his shows – he never got to sing _angry_ songs, and was sort of surprised by how well he was able to pull it off. One more thing to add to the wheelhouse, he thought as his choreographed dance ended and the music descended into a low, pumping baseline. The white spotlights shut off and the red lighting faded into a bluish-olive green. "_The representative from Ohio has the floor,_" he said into the mic, and he saw Mr. Schue laugh.

As the spotlights turned on again, pulsing in time with the beat, Kurt sang, "_Zieg heil to the President gasman – bombs away is your punishment! Pulverize the Eiffel Towers who criticize your government!_"

He wasn't really sure when it happened, but all of a sudden his audience was not cheering, not looking at him – they had all turned to the side (he could see Puck leaping over a row of seats and dropping next to something in the aisle), and Mr. Schue was waving frantically at him to stop. His stomach sinking, Kurt jumped off the stage and ran up to where they were crowded. Mike was the only one who had the sense to go to the soundboard and shut off the stage lights and music and turn on the normal auditorium lights, and as soon as the music was gone, the only noise in the room was a sound like someone being strangled.

"Get out of the way!"

Tina abruptly shoved Santana aside and dropped to her knees beside Finn, who was lying on the floor as every part of his body twitched. He was breathing but it was hitching as his chest convulsed and they could tell he wasn't getting enough air. "Give me your hoodie!" Tina yelled at Puck, who handed it over without a second thought.

"Someone run and get the nurse," Mr. Schue ordered, his eyes wide as he tried to keep his cool. Santana grabbed Brittany by the arm and they ran out of the auditorium to get help. "Mike, I want you to call 911, get an ambulance over here. Tell them he's having a seizure. Tina, you know what to do?"

Tina didn't look up from where she was balling up Puck's sweatshirt as a makeshift cushion beneath Finn's head. "My cousin's epileptic," she said offhandedly. "Puck, I need you to hold him down, right there." She indicated Finn's chest. "Make sure his head doesn't fall off the pillow. Matt, hold his legs."

Puck looked like he was afraid to touch him, but he reached across and did as he was told while Matt gripped Finn around the ankles and Tina held his wrists. Kurt stood rigid, staring at his stepbrother's shaking body and vaguely aware that Mercedes and Quinn were each grasping one of his hands. Mr. Schue's order to Mike was playing over and over in his head. _Tell them he's having a seizure._ Finn was having a seizure.

_The lights._

Kurt's heart leapt into his throat when he remembered that seizures could be triggered by rapid flashing lights. "Oh, God…" he whispered.

Mercedes gripped his hand tighter. "It's gonna be okay, baby," she told him.

But it wasn't going to be okay, because Finn's eyes were rolled back and he was convulsing and they could hear him choking and the nurse wasn't here yet and it was _all his fault.

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**A/N: The song that Finn sang is called _The Unbroken Thread_ and it's part of John Boswell's Symphony of Science, which you should all look up on YouTube right now. The videos are incredible and Boswell is a genius. I had actually set myself a challenge a while back to see if I could work one of the Symphony of Science songs into a Glee fic somehow, and the idea to do it here didn't hit me until I was in the middle of writing Chapter 12. Mission accomplished!**

**Review!  
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	15. Chapter 14

_Chapter Fourteen_

"Could you not do that please?"

Puck stopped his pacing for long enough to ask, "How the fuck is this bothering you?"

"You're making me extremely anxious," Kurt replied.

"Good!" Puck snapped, immediately resuming the short path he'd walked at least five hundred times since they'd gotten there. "Good, you're _supposed_ to be anxious."

"I _am_ anxious, Puck! But freaking out isn't going to help anything, all right? Save the anxiety for later."

Puck just snarled at him and kept pacing. For the second time, the entire club was crammed into an ER waiting room, except this time it wasn't a matter of birth. This time they were actually afraid for their friend's life. Quinn's pregnancy had been ill-timed, yes, but at least it was a cycle everyone expected at one point or another. But not this. This was different. This was _wrong_.

"Kurt's right, Noah," Rachel said quietly from the chair on Kurt's other side. "I know you're worried – we _all_ are – but we need to keep our heads level. At least until we know what happened."

"We _know_ what happened!" Puck cried. "He had a fucking seizure!"

"Please, Puck, keep your voice down," Quinn begged, noticing that one of the hospital security guards was keeping a close eye on them.

"Fucking epileptic," Puck muttered, resuming his pacing. A few minutes later, he stopped again, looking around the ER in confusion. "Wait, where's Wheels and Gothika?"

"Tina and Artie went to the bathroom," Brittany said.

Okay, _that_ was inappropriate, and even Puck was _so_ not okay with that kind of behavior in this kind of situation. "I'm gonna _kill_ those motherf—"

"Shut the _fuck_ up, Puck," Santana snapped. "Tina was _crying_, okay? She started crying and ran off to the bathroom and Artie went after her. Get some damn Xanax or something."

"Wait, why was Tina crying?" Matt asked.

Santana gave him a how-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to-know look.

Puck once again continued pacing, figuring that at this rate he was going to wear a hole in the floor. The club was silent until Mr. Schue, who had ridden in the ambulance with Finn, came into the ER and was hammered with a barrage of overlapping questions and demands.

"Is Finn okay?"

"What happened?"

"Is he alive?"

"Guys, one at a time," Mr. Schue quieted them down. "He's okay, he's asleep."

"Is he actually asleep or did they knock him out?" Kurt demanded to know.

"I'm not sure. But the important thing is that he's all right. His mom and stepdad are with him right now, so there's nothing more that we can do here. It's getting late; we should all go home."

"It's fucking five o'clock, I'm not going anywhere."

Mr. Schue didn't bother to scold Puck for his language. They weren't in school anyways. "I can take four people in my car, if anyone needs rides."

As the rest of the club divvied up the carpools, Kurt approached Mr. Schue. "Did Finn say anything?" he asked quietly.

"He was in and out of it during the whole ambulance ride, but he wasn't really awake long enough to say anything," Mr. Schue answered honestly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Kurt turned and strode off in the direction Mr. Schue had come from. About fifty yards down the corridor, Artie wheeled out of the room marked _WOMEN_, looking glum.

"Is Tina all right?" Kurt asked, remembering why they'd left.

Artie nodded. "I think she just needs some time alone."

"Why is she upset?"

Artie rubbed the back of his neck. "She, uh… she did something wrong when she was trying to help Finn. Didn't realize it until she got here and sort of had a minor panic attack."

"Something wrong?" Kurt echoed.

"Apparently she wasn't supposed to hold him down. Or something. I dunno, she doesn't talk too clearly when she gets like this. Finn _is_ okay, though, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's fine."

Artie heaved a sigh of relief, though Kurt had a feeling that it was equal parts relief that Finn was all right and relief that Finn was all right despite Tina's mistake. "I should go tell her so she doesn't keep thinking she killed him."

Kurt nodded, a little too preoccupied to actually worry about Tina's feelings (after all, that's what Artie was there for). He left Artie to take care of Tina, and went to be with his family.

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When Finn woke, he was in a room that had been painted a bland peach color. He groaned and put a hand to his head – it was pounding – and suddenly his mother appeared out of nowhere, leaning over him. "Hey, honey," she said, giving a watery smile. "How are you doing?"

"I feel like I've been put in a blender," he mumbled. "What happened?"

She gripped his hand. "You had a seizure, sweetie. You're in the hospital," she told him gently, sitting on the bed beside him. "Do you remember anything?"

"Just…being at school," he said slowly. He could remember his classes, then performing, then… "Wait – it happened during Glee club?"

"Yeah."

He swore under his breath. "They're all gonna think I'm a freak."

"Honey, I'm just glad you're okay," she said, wiping her eyes. She ran a hand affectionately through his hair.

"Where's Burt and Kurt?"

"They went down to the cafeteria to get some coffee. They'll be back soon."

Right on cue, the door opened and Finn was suddenly engulfed in a bone-crushing hug. "_Ow…_" he managed to get out.

Kurt let go, giving Finn room to breathe. "I'm sorry, Finn, I was so worried— Don't you ever do that again!"

Burt approached the bed with two cups of coffee in his hands. He gave one to Carole. "How you feeling, kiddo? You sure gave us a scare."

Finn gave a tired smile. "Sorry."

"Well, the docs say that you can go home tonight, long as you're feeling up to it, but we're taking you to Columbus tomorrow and getting you another MRI and CT. MacPherson and Rawlings want to know what's going on."

Finn scowled.

Carole squeezed his hand. "Honey, I know you don't like them – we don't either – but they are your doctors, and we need to know what's going on so that we can fix it."

He nodded, still scowling. He knew he had to take the tests, but it didn't mean he had to like it.

"Finn, I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Finn hadn't expected an apology from anyone, least of all Kurt. "For what?"

"All the…all the flashing lights and everything," Kurt said, intently studying the ugly pattern on the bed cover. "I'm sorry, I didn't think…"

"You seriously think that my having a seizure was your fault?" Finn said, incredulous. He saw Burt shake his head; he'd already tried to tell Kurt that he had nothing to do with it. "Kurt, _I_ didn't know that that was gonna happen. How the hell could you?"

Kurt shrugged, still looking down.

"You're an idiot."

And suddenly, Kurt giggled.

"What? What did I say?" Finn asked, confused as to why his stepbrother had made a three-point-turn from guilty to amused.

"It's just…that's the first time you've ever said that," Kurt laughed. "To anyone."

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**A/N: I'm actually not a huge fan of this chapter, so leave a review and tell me how I did. Also, I just posted a new story - _not_ part of the ETU series, but a oneshot titled _Inhale_. I'm pretty fond of it, so please check it out! :)**


	16. Chapter 15

_Chapter Fifteen_

Finn fidgeted in his seat, restless after having to lie down for so long during the second MRI and the CT scan that followed immediately after. Carole was in the chair beside him, holding on tightly to his hand, though he was pretty sure it was more to steady her own nerves than his. They were in Dr. Rawlings' office in the Columbus hospital, waiting for the neurologist to show up with the CT results, and Burt was scrutinizing one of the framed degrees on the wall by the window.

"What the hell is nephrology?" Burt wondered aloud.

"Kidneys," Finn said automatically.

"Huh?" Burt looked like he hadn't been expecting an answer.

"Nephrology's anything to do with the kidneys," Finn elaborated.

"Oh."

A few minutes of silence passed, and Finn squirmed, wanting to leave. Kurt hadn't accompanied them since he'd had Cheerios practice that afternoon and it didn't let out until five, and frankly, Finn wished he was here. Despite the fact that Kurt couldn't keep his sarcasm contained for ninety percent of the time, he had a calming effect on others. Finn figured it was probably his cool-and-collected front rubbing off on the atmosphere. He glanced at the clock – Kurt was definitely home by now, or possibly hanging with Mercedes.

The door opened and Rawlings strode in, immediately approaching the LED screen meant for viewing x-ray images. He pulled out two translucent sheets from a manila enveloped he was holding and slid them onto the screen, the image of Finn's brain glowing against the dark film.

"Okay," Rawlings said as Burt, Carole, and Finn crowded closer. "You see this?" He pointed to a smallish band of shadow between the two halves of the brain, shaped a little bit like a bow.

"That's the corpus callosum," Finn said, a trace of awe in his voice.

"Right. It's basically a big jumble of nerves connecting the left and right side of the brain – a super-highway for nerve communication, if you will," Rawlings explained for Burt and Carole's benefit. "Now, look at this." He pointed to the second sheet, where there was a similar band between the two halves.

"It's smaller on that one," Carole said.

"_That_ one…is a normal brain," Rawlings said, shaking his head in amazement.

Burt frowned. "Finn's got a bigger corpus coliseum?"

"Callosum," Finn muttered under his breath, squinting at the differences between the two images.

"Not only is Finn's corpus callosum bigger than normal, but it _wasn't_ bigger than normal the last time we took a CT," Rawlings said, waiting for them to understand what he was saying.

"Wait…" Carole said, the gears in her head visibly spinning. "He's _growing_ nerve cells?"

"There's no record of anyone ever growing more nerves in the corpus callosum, let alone on this scale in such a short time," Rawlings said solemnly. "But…yes, that's what it looks like. We can't tell any more without doing exploratory brain surgery—"

"No," Burt growled.

"—_but_," Rawlings continued. "But the corpus callosum is deep enough in the brain so that there's no way Finn would come out of the surgery alive. It's not an option."

"You okay, honey?" Carole asked, placing a hand on Finn's upper arm. He nodded slightly, saying nothing.

Rawlings addressed Finn directly. "Before you had your seizure, what did it feel like, physically?"

Finn thought for a minute. "I was watching Kurt and the lights were making me dizzy, so I got up to go to the bathroom. I don't remember anything after that."

"Tonic-clonic seizures are caused by a misfiring of neurons in the region of the brain that interprets physical activity and controls the muscles. Soon after they begin, the signals spread to the entire brain and result in a loss of consciousness, convulsions…" Rawlings leaned against his desk. "I don't think that's what happened with Finn's seizure."

Finn frowned and tried to keep his voice level as he asked what Rawlings was talking about.

"I think that your seizure was caused not by a misfiring of neurons, but an _over_firing," Rawlings stated. "The flashing lights in the performance you were watching, combined with the loud music, set your brain into hyperdrive. Basically, you were receiving too much input, so your brain responded by overcompensating with output. And, because of the increase of size in your corpus callosum, it caused chaos on a chemical level."

Comprehension cleared Finn's face.

"So what do we do?" Burt said, crossing his arms.

Rawlings appeared pensive for a few moments. "I'd like to do an EEG, and we should see if we can induce another seizure—"

"_What?_" Carole shrieked. "You want to make him go through that _again_?"

"He will be in good care when it occurs," Rawlings assured her. "This is only to test the waters and see if the lights and noise really were what caused his seizure. It's a standard procedure; he won't be in any danger."

"You're telling me that there's no other way to figure out what caused this thing? Another MRI?" Burt demanded angrily. "What's the difference between this and cutting into his brain?"

"Wait." Burt and Carole looked simultaneously to Finn, surprised that he'd spoken up. He sighed, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Okay. I'm willing to do it."

"Finn—" Carole started to protest.

"Mom, this is important," he insisted.

She pressed her lips together into a thin line. "Okay. As long as you're willing. But…you can change your mind."

He nodded. "I know." He looked to Rawlings. "When do we do it?"

"I can pull some strings and get an opening for you in under an hour."

* * *

The examination room that they brought Finn to had minimal equipment inside. There was a bed for the patient, though it was clear the bed was not meant to be slept in, and a defibrillator cart in the corner. Finn, garbed in a hospital gown, was told to lie down and the two attending nurses attached electrodes to his chest, neck, the insides of his wrists, and several places on his head. Burt and Carole stood in the observation booth as Dr. Rawlings explained what was going to happen.

"The electrodes on his body are meant to monitor his vitals while the ones on his head read his brain's activity during the procedure. If he does begin to seize, the attendants will make sure that he doesn't harm himself, and if the seizure lasts too long, he'll be given an injection of diazepam to end it."

"And if he doesn't start seizing?" Burt asked.

Rawlings sighed. "Then we don't know what we're dealing with. It could just be sleep deprivation, or it could be as bad as a bleed in his brain. If he does seize, then it will at least provide us with a path to follow."

Carole drew a long breath, watching her son through the glass and trying not to scream at Rawlings in frustration. Burt hugged her close but didn't say anything.

"We're ready for you, Doctor," one of the nurses poked her head into the booth.

"Thank you." Rawlings picked up a pair of headphones like the ones carpenters wear to protect themselves from the noise of their power tools and slipped them over his ears as he approached the boy on the bed.

"Okay, Finn, now just relax and don't be scared. Remember, the nurses are here to help you in any way they can, and they know exactly what to do. You ready?"

Finn wished that he could have been telling the truth when he nodded, but who can really say 'Yes, I'm perfectly ready for you to zap my brain until I have a fit'? And Rawlings definitely had shitty bedside manner. But Finn took a deep breath to try and steady his nerves, leaning back as the white lights in the ceiling began to flash at a semi-fast pace. Gradually, they began to blink faster, and heavy metal suddenly blasted over the speakers.

Inside the booth where the sound was muffled, Carole was holding her breath. "Nothing's happening," she said.

Burt squeezed her shoulder, not sure what to hope for.

The needles on the EEG machine behind Finn were twitching as they recorded their collected information, and the music was slowly getting louder as the lights flashed more rapidly. It stayed like that for a long time, or at least it seemed like it. The lights were strobing by that point, and the music was loud enough to make the glass in the observation window tremble slightly. Finn looked a little irritated at the volume, but other than that, there was nothing.

"Burt, nothing's happening," Carole said again.

"I know," he said, pulling her a little closer. "It's okay."

And just like that, the needles on the machine went crazy, flipping back and forth like they were recording an earthquake. Only a split second after the needles began to move in earnest, Finn's spine arched and he went completely rigid, his eyes wide and staring blankly at the ceiling, the tendons in his neck sticking out. Carole drew a sharp breath, her hand flying to her mouth. Finn's eyes rolled back in his head and his body suddenly curled like an ant under a magnifying glass, shaking. His arm lashed out and fell behind his back as Rawlings and one of the nurses turned him onto his side as gently as possible. The other nurse shut off the music and stopped the lights from flashing.

Now that the music was off, they could hear Finn's throat opening and closing as his lungs tried to draw in air. Saliva began to drip from the side of his mouth and his teeth clenched, his trachea rapidly bobbing up and down. His legs kicked out and his muscles were contracting so quickly that it looked like he was vibrating.

"I can't watch this," Carole whispered, turning and hiding her face in Burt's shoulder.

It seemed like hours before Finn's movements began to quiet down. His chest heaved, straining to breathe, and he groaned with each taut inhalation. His face had turned blue but he was very slowly regaining his color. His eyes were still rolled back and his body stiff, twitching every couple of seconds, but the worst was over, and it wasn't until then that Carole allowed herself to completely break down in Burt's arms.

Rawlings came back into the booth, looking grim.

"What?" Burt demanded. Carole sniffed and drew an unsteady breath, trying to compose herself.

"The EEG recorded the brain activity spiking almost at the same time as the convulsions began," Rawlings said. "It's…not supposed to."

"_What?_" Burt practically yelled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The neurological activity that causes a seizure starts before the actual seizure. There's a measurable timeframe. Sometimes minutes, sometimes hours," Rawlings started to explain.

"Doc, I swear to God, if you don't start talking English in the next ten seconds—"

"Finn's seizure happened immediately," Rawlings said. "It happened _as soon as_ his neurons started firing."

"So, what – what're you saying?"

Rawlings looked through the glass at Finn's twitching form. "I'm saying that there's so much communication between the regions of Finn's brain that it's kicking _everything_ into hyperdrive."

"Does this have to do with the corpus coliseum thing?" Burt asked.

"I have a feeling the corpus callosum's increased size is only a small part of it," Rawlings answered. "I'm going to call MacPherson and get him back here to work on Finn's case, but I'll be perfectly honest with you. We're in uncharted territory here. There's no textbook to follow any more."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it took a tad longer to get this one up - work, combined with insomnia, combined with orders for scarves, combined with a driver's license test made it a little hard to find free time. I also posted a new oneshot, titled _Inhale_ that I'm quite proud of and you should all go read it :) Please review!**


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N: What's the most frustrating thing about living in the spot where eleven out of New England's seventeen weather systems intersect? You NEVER know when your internet's going to suddenly vanish for days. Sorry about the delay, people, it could not be avoided. I swear, the weather's so unpredictable here I must live in the Chicago of Vermont. *eyeroll***

* * *

_Chapter Sixteen_

Kurt woke with a start around one in the morning, feeling like something was wrong. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and glancing around the room in the bluish glow of Finn's fish tank, he saw that his stepbrother was not in his bed. If Kurt were to go by Finn's nonexistent sleep schedule over the last two months, he would guess that Finn was upstairs reading or in the garage working. Still, the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach made him get out of bed and climb the stairs to find the rest of the house dark and empty. He frowned, shivering a little in the November chill that usually seeped inside during the night. Finn had always come back from his Columbus appointments late, but never this late. The streetlamps outside shone in through the windows, cutting through the shadows with slanted light as Kurt made his way to the kitchen. Glancing out the window, he saw that Burt's car was back, and if he listened hard enough, he could hear his father snoring on the floor above. There were no sounds coming from the garage, and the windows in the garage door were dark.

His gut twisted when he realized that Finn was not in the house.

Snatching a jacket off of the coat rack by the front door, he stepped outside onto the porch in his bare feet, his breath clouding as he craned his neck, looking up and down the empty street.

"What are you doing?"

"Shitfuck!" Kurt whipped around, nearly jumping a foot in the air. Finn was sitting on the porch bench by the door. "Do _not_ scare me like that, Finn Hudson."

Finn gave a half-smile. "'Shitfuck'?" he echoed. "Puck really _is_ rubbing off on you."

"Shut up." Kurt pulled the coat tighter and sat down beside him. He frowned as he felt something hard on the cushion, and he pulled a book out from under him, squinting at the title in the dim light from the streetlamps. "'_Napoleon's Buttons: Seventeen Molecules That Changed History_'?" he read. "What is this? I didn't know we had this."

"We don't. I got it from the library. It's pretty cool. There's a whole chapter in there on how humans need salt in their system in order to move their muscles, and another one on how nutmeg helped stop the spread of the Black Plague."

"Really?" Kurt handed the book back to him. "That's…actually kind of interesting."

"Yep. So, you didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"What are you doing out here?"

Kurt shrugged, leaning back against the bench. "I woke up and you weren't there, so I got worried. What about you? What are you doing?"

"Just getting some air."

"How'd your appointment go?"

Finn shrugged, watching a bat flit beneath a streetlamp and then disappear.

"Did something bad happen?"

"They set off another seizure," Finn said.

"What? Why? On purpose?" Kurt felt a little sick, remembering how Finn had convulsed on the auditorium floor two days before.

"They wanted to see if the music and lights really were what set it off."

"And?"

"And they were."

"I'm sorry."

Finn suddenly sounded slightly angry. "Are you still feeling guilty about that? I've told you like twenty times that it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known."

"I know I couldn't have known, but that doesn't change the fact that if I hadn't set up the strobing lights, you wouldn't have had a seizure."

"And then they wouldn't have found out that I'm sprouting more nerves than a normal human being," Finn said bitterly.

"Well— Wait, what?"

Finn leaned his elbow on the arm of the bench, resting his head against his fist. "It was on the CT scan," he said, now sounding simply exhausted rather than sour.

"You're…you're growing more nerves?" Kurt said slowly, not sure if he understood.

"That's what they think. My corpus callosum is bigger than it should be."

"Your what?"

Finn explained what the corpus callosum was, and Kurt looked a little stunned.

"So, wait…how is that possible?"

"They have no idea. The bastard called me a scientific breakthrough again."

Not knowing what else to do, Kurt gave Finn's shoulder a consoling squeeze.

"I hate this," Finn said quietly. "All of it."

"Surely there's _something_ good—"

"Lemme ask you something, Kurt. You like fashion and clothes and stuff. You go shopping, like, twice a week. You never wear the same clothes twice in a month."

"Yeah…" Kurt said slowly, not sure where Finn was going with this.

"Well, how would you feel if your dad cut off your credit card privileges? So that you had _no_ money at all, and you couldn't shop for _any_thing, let alone clothes?"

Kurt thought for a minute, trying to think of a real honest response. "I'd probably be depressed for quite a while. Angry, too."

"Well, that's what this is like."

"I don't understand."

"I have…_so_ many ideas, you know?" Finn said, staring out onto the empty street. "Like, for everything. Solar power. Artificial gravity. Irrigation. Computer efficiency. Hell, even how Figgins could be more cost-effective with all the electric stuff in the auditorium. But you know what? I'm just a kid with a long history of shitty grades. I don't have _any_ credibility here. Like, if I were to go to NASA and ask to sit in on a conference or something, they'd just laugh at me and say 'Aw, the kid wants to be an astronaut and see how space shuttles work – that's so cute. Get the boy some Tinker Toys and a lollipop and send him on his way.' See? I don't even have a credit card to start with."

"Finn, you have an immeasurable IQ."

"But would they believe me if I told them?" Finn asked. "Besides, I don't want to live out my life saying 'Hey, I'm a genius. Give me what I want.'"

Kurt shifted, pulling his legs up onto the bench – his feet were freezing. "Well, I think you should allow yourself a little room to use your IQ to your advantage. You've earned it."

"So what, I just accidentally develop some extra nerves and boom, I've _earned_ it?" Finn said. "Kurt, I didn't do _anything_ for this to happen. I haven't earned shit." He sighed. "This should've happened to some MIT student or something. Not some dumb kid in Lima."

"Well, it _didn't_ happen to an MIT student. It happened to you." Kurt nudged him affectionately. "And you're not a dumb kid any more. _You'll_ be an MIT student before you know it. You just got started a little early is all."

Finn smiled a little. "Think so?"

"I know so. With your theories? They'll be _begging_ to claim you before Harvard has a chance to."

"Thanks, man." Finn's smile faded, like he was thinking about something that he wasn't willing to share, making the uneasy feeling in Kurt's gut bubble.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the bats flutter in and out of sight. Eventually, Finn spoke. "So…why are you wearing one of Burt's trucker coats?"

"Shut up."

* * *

"Hey, Tina."

Tina jumped a little, turning to see Finn approaching her at her locker between second and third period. "Oh, hi, Finn. How're you doing?"

"A hell of a lot better than on Wednesday, that's for sure."

She forced a tiny laugh, though the joke really wasn't funny.

"Kurt told me that you were the one who told Puck and Matt what to do."

Tina chewed on her lip, hugging her math textbook to her chest and staring at his shoes. "I'm…_really_ sorry about that, Finn," she said quietly. "I was an idiot."

"Whoa, hey, I was just gonna thank you."

"What? I almost killed you!"

Finn quirked an eyebrow. "Well…you didn't kill me, I know that much." He shifted his bag on his shoulder. "Look, I know you did it wrong, but you at least did _something_, Tina. I don't think that anybody else would've had the balls to do anything. Not even Puck. You were really brave, doing that."

Her face flushed bright red and she went back to studying Finn's sneakers. "It was my second cousin."

"Huh?"

"My second cousin; he's epileptic. That's why I thought I knew what to do. But…I haven't seen him since I was six, so I guess I kinda got mixed up."

Finn gave her a lopsided smile. "Well, like I said, at least you did something."

The bell rang shrilly throughout the crowded hallway, and Tina shut her locker. "I, uh, gotta go to math." She sighed. "I hate geometry."

"Want me to help you with it later?"

"That…that'd be great! Thanks!" she said, smiling in relief.

"Okay, I'll see you in study hall. Oh, and I'm gonna talk to Mr. Schue about getting you a solo for the December Invitational."

Her eyes widened. "What? Why?"

"'Cause you want one."


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N: Okay, I do have a legit excuse for the delay on this chapter. I got Season One on DVD. Need I say more?

* * *

**

_Chapter Seventeen_

It was impossible for Kurt to concentrate in any of his classes all day. It had been well over twelve hours since his conversation with Finn on the porch, and he still hadn't shaken the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him that _something_, he had no idea what, was wrong. He grumbled incoherently under his breath when he glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time during seventh period – the minute hand was moving agonizingly slow.

"You got a hot date you haven't told me about?" Mercedes prodded him.

"Huh? Oh. No."

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, 'Cedes." He patted her hand and frowned at his history textbook.

"Kurt, I know you well enough to tell when something's bothering you, and something is _definitely_ bothering you." She raised an eyebrow expectantly.

He sighed, putting down his pen. "Something's going on with Finn."

"Uh…duh? It took him less than two months to turn from Forrest Gump into Good Will Hunting, hello!"

"I'm aware of _that_," he said patiently. "I mean there's something besides that."

She looked pensive for a moment. "You're talking about his little jig on Wednesday?"

"I don't know, 'Cedes. Maybe."

* * *

"I _really_ don't get this," Tina grumbled.

"It's okay," Finn told her. "Look, you have your triangle here – now which one's the hypotenuse?"

"The…shortest side."

"No, it's the longest one," Finn corrected, pointing to the diagram. "See? Here. Now, you just take the lengths of the other two sides – right – and you square both of them." Tina huffed a little in frustration, but did the calculations. "Good. Now add them together and you get the square of the—"

"Finn, could I speak to you for a moment?"

Finn and Tina looked up to see Rachel standing on the other side of the table. "Uh…sure. Yeah." Finn stood up. "I'll be right back," he said to Tina as he walked with Rachel to the other side of the library. "What's up?"

"I just…" she started, crossing her arms. "I just feel like you've been distant lately."

He frowned. "I'm…sorry."

"Look, I know you've been under a lot of pressure right now from more than one person and the last thing you need is for someone else to be pushing you for anything else," she said. "But the fact is that you and I are dating."

"I'm not sure where you're going with this, Rach," he said, keeping his voice low so as not to bother the librarian, who seemed to have superhuman hearing despite being at least ninety-eight years old.

"I'm just saying that you've been spending more time with Artie, Tina, Puck, and Kurt far more than with me," she said. "Again, I know that there's a lot of pressure in your life at the moment, but as your girlfriend I would think that you'd come to _me _when you feel stressed, not Artie."

"Well, first of all, Kurt's practically my stepbrother, so I don't exactly have a choice when it comes to spending time with him," Finn said, a little bitterly. "Second, I hang out with Puck because he's my best friend and he always has been. And don't bring up the Quinn thing; he and I worked that out a long time ago," he cut Rachel off before she could protest that point. "I hang out with Artie because he and I now have similar interests and he doesn't freak out on me like everyone else does – you included – when I start talking about nerdy stuff. And as for Tina, I _haven't_ been hanging out with her. She just needed a little math help, which is the least I could do after what she did on Wednesday."

"Finn, I'm your girlfriend. I've said it before: all I ask is that you're honest with me. What's going on?"

"Don't you think that I would've told you if I knew?" he retorted. "Believe it or not, this is not – in _any_ way – about you."

Her mouth snapped shut and she looked _hurt_. He sighed. "Look, I know that I've been…weird lately," he said slowly, forcing his tone to relax. "I'm sorry. It's just…the doctors are starting to freak me out and I need space."

"Space?" she echoed. "You want to take a break?"

"No – no, that's not what I meant," he said quickly. "I…I just need you to know that I'm not trying to avoid you. There's just a lot of things changing right now, and I'm trying to deal with all of them. You know…space in my head."

She pressed her lips together, staring down at the floor for a few moments. "I understand," she whispered. "You need me to back off."

"Rachel, you're twisting my words—"

"I know I'm abrasive and bossy but—"

"—you don't get it—"

"—I would've thought that you'd see past that—"

"—_this isn't about you!_"

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden jump in volume. There were a tense few seconds during which Finn just _stared her down_, which was intimidating and a little scary, and, glancing around the room, she saw that every other student in the library had looked up from their work to watch the two of them. She saw Tina at the table in the far corner, worry knitting her brows together.

Mrs. Redding, the librarian, hobbled over with her lips pursed. "If you two are quite finished, I think you should take this outside so as not to disturb the other students," she said sternly, her ancient cheeks flapping loosely on her cheekbones.

A muscle twitched in Finn's jaw, and he brushed past Rachel, storming out of the library.

He'd only gotten about twenty feet down the corridor when Rachel called after him. "Finn, wait!"

He stopped, closed his eyes, sighed, and turned to face her. "What?"

"Why are you doing this?" she asked softly.

"I'm not doing anything, Rach, I told you—"

"I mean flipping out at me like this." She shifted from foot to foot, a little uncomfortable. "It's unlike you to lose your temper so quickly."

Finn let out a long breath, trying to calm his nerves. "In case you haven't noticed, Rach," he said slowly. "I've been doing a lot of things unlike me lately. Look, please don't take this the wrong way but I really do need—" Abruptly, he stopped talking, confusion passing over his features.

"What?" Rachel asked, noticing the sudden change.

"Did it just get really bright in here?" Finn asked, looking around the hallway in bewilderment.

She frowned. "No…"

"_Ow,_" Finn said, squeezing his eyes shut.

Rachel put her hands on his shoulders. "Finn, what's happening? Talk to me."

He blinked rapidly, squinting as if he was looking directly at the sun. "I – I dunno, it's just…really _bright_—"

And before Rachel could suggest that they go to the nurse's office, Finn collapsed.

* * *

**A/N: Tomorrow, I have to leave and go to a MAJOR craft fair in Massachusetts (I'm a vendor), and I'll be there until Sunday. I will have my laptop with me, but it's unclear whether or not I'll have internet access. If I do, you can expect another chapter up soon. If not, you'll have to wait til next week. Regardless, I'll try to get another one up before I leave tomorrow afternoon, but don't hold me to that. Now that that's out of the way, review!**


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N: Again, I apologize for the delay. Some major family drama came up rather suddenly and for the last few days I haven't really had time for anything else outside of work. The drama still hasn't blown over yet, so I don't know when I'll be able to update next, but don't worry, I have NOT lost inspiration here. Just some things are going on that need to be taken care of. Now that that's out of the way, read on :)

* * *

**

_Chapter Eighteen_**  
**

Rachel shrieked as Finn slammed into the floor (she could've sworn she heard a crack, but that might have been her imagination) and dropped to her knees next to him, shaking his shoulders. "Finn! _Finn!_" she cried. "Finn, please, wake up!"

"Rachel?"

Her head whipped around to see Tina standing behind her. "Get the nurse!" she yelled, turning back to Finn. She could hear Tina's combat boots clonking as she ran off towards the Health Office. Finn was sprawled on the ground, unmoving, and his eyes hadn't closed all the way, which only served to elevate Rachel's distress. There was a small crowd gathering now of other students who had been in the library or milling about in the hall. Rachel's brain scrambled as she tried to figure out what she should do – she'd taken several intensive first aid training courses every summer before volunteering as a lifeguard at the community pool – but she couldn't quite think clearly. Worried that he was about to have another seizure, she yelled at the accumulating students to move back, and with a shaking hand she felt the side of his neck, almost gasping when she realized just how _fast_ his heart was beating. Almost like a rabbit's. Trying to keep calm, she counted the pulses for fifteen seconds and did the mental math like she'd been trained. ...A hundred and fifty. A hundred and _fifty_ beats per minute. Rachel wasn't a doctor, but she was sure that a heart beating that fast could not be good.

It was another long minute before the nurse, Mrs. Halverson, arrived and ordered Rachel to step back. She obeyed, and Tina placed a hand on her shoulder, telling her, "I'm gonna go get Mr. Schue," before running off a second time. As Mrs. Halverson rolled Finn onto his back and flashed a penlight over his eyes, a horribly familiar nasal voice pierced through Rachel's shock from beside her, and a tape recorder was jabbed into her face.

"Rachel, have you any comment to give on your boyfriend's sudden fainting spell?"

Something snapped in Rachel's brain and she whipped around, drawing herself up to her full height (which she somehow managed to make look impressive), and unleashing a tirade upon the unsuspecting head of Jacob Ben Israel.

"I understand that you have absolutely no social life beyond the fields of Twitter and Blogspot and that your entire world revolves around uprooting the secrets of people who don't deserve your scrutiny, but you seem to have forgotten Santana's promise to turn the tables," she spat, her voice rising with every word.

Jacob looked terrified and was backing up slowly as Rachel stalked forward, fuming.

"Now, observe. Fellow McKinley students!" she bellowed, commanding the attention of the still-growing crowd in the corridor. Rachel Berry was _pissed_ and it was obvious that nothing short of Sue Sylvester with a bazooka could shut her up at this point. "Be aware that this sniveling, grimy, and probably lice-infested ASSHOLE has a _very_ severe case of genital herpes!"

All of the students within an arm's reach of Jacob immediately moved away from him, looks in varying degrees of disgust on their faces. Jacob let out a horrified squeak, about to protest and deny Rachel's announcement, but Rachel was on a roll.

"You have harassed us, bullied us, hazed us, spread _lies_ about us, _and_ you insist on coming back for more despite our explicitly stated desire for you to cease your attacks. What I find _most_ amazing, though, is that even though I've told you in no uncertain terms that I am _not interested in you at ALL_, you seem to think that going about your usual routine of stalking, snooping, and neglecting normal hygiene rituals is the best way to gain my affection. Well, let me spell it out for you," she hissed, sounding creepily like Santana. She snatched the tape recorder from Jacob's hand, threw it hard into the floor, and smashed it under the heel of her shoe. "If you shove another microphone or tape recorder in my face or violate the personal space of _any_ Glee club member from now on, you can expect something _much_ worse than revealing your deadly herpes infection. Namely, I will have Santana, Puck, Mercedes, and Quinn simultaneously attack you in a very public setting and deal you a hand that borders on illegal – and you can trust me, they would be more than _happy_ to deliver such an assault. _Do I make myself clear?_"

Silence.

Jacob's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, and then he decided that it would be in his best interest if he turned tail and ran, disappearing around the corner. As the bell for next period rang, Rachel huffed and turned back around, stopping short as she saw that the entire group of gathered spectators were staring at her in astonishment.

"Don't you all have class?" Mrs. Halverson finally demanded loudly as Rachel knelt beside her still-unconscious boyfriend. "Come on, people, there's nothing here to see. Go on! Scoot!"

The crowd began to slowly disperse and Tina reappeared with Mr. Schue, who was slightly out of breath (his office was all the way on the other side of the building). "Janet, what's going on? Is he okay?" he addressed the nurse.

"I think he's fine; he's coming around now," Mrs. Halverson said.

True to the nurse's promise, Finn let out a quiet groan and he blinked slowly, trying to roll over onto his stomach.

"Hey, slow down, kiddo," the nurse warned, keeping him on his back with a firm hand against his shoulder.

"Finn, can you hear me?" Rachel ran a hand over his forehead, subconsciously checking for a fever, though there was none.

His fingers twitched slightly (though the movement wasn't sudden enough to worry about) and he tried to open his eyes as his pupils dilated and readjusted to the light of the hall. "My head hurts," he mumbled.

"Come on, buddy," Mr. Schue knelt down and helped Finn sit up and lean back against the wall. Finn gave his head a shake, trying to brush away the static he felt crackling all over his brain. "How're you feeling?"

"Dehydrated," Finn said, looking like he wasn't quite sure what had happened.

"Doesn't surprise me," Mrs. Halverson said. "You'd be surprised how many kids faint from forgetting to drink water at this time of year. Fact is, indoor heating dries you out more than sun does."

Finn blinked. "What'd I miss?"

"Well, your girlfriend certainly put on a show."

Tina, Mr. Schue, and Finn all simultaneously looked to Rachel in confusion, and she flushed bright red. "Jacob was being a nuisance," she muttered, holding Finn's hand.

"Follow my finger," Mrs. Halverson ordered gently, moved her index finger back and forth in front of Finn's nose, nodding in satisfaction when his eyes seemed to be fine. "What's the date?"

"November seventh," Finn answered, a little deadpan.

"Year?"

"Twenty-ten."

"And who's the current President?"

"Obama," he said, giving a small fist pump.

"Good," she chuckled. "You think you can stand up?"

"Yeah." Finn nodded and, still gripping Rachel's hand, heaved himself to his feet.

Once he was standing upright again, Rachel wrapped her arms around his torso in a vice-like hug. "You scared me," she said.

"Sorry."

Mrs. Halverson planted her hands on her hips, studying him for a second. "I know there's not much time until the end of the day, but I'll write you a note and you can go home early."

"Do you need a ride?" Mr. Schue asked. "I don't have any more classes today, I could—"

"No, it's fine, I'll get one from Puck," Finn cut him off. He shrugged. "It's okay; he was planning on skipping last period anyway."

* * *

**A/N: Leave a review!**


	20. Chapter 19

**A/N: Okay, family drama's (finally) over, so hopefully updating speed will now increase. Hope you like this one :)

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_Chapter Nineteen_**  
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When Kurt got home, he was greeted by the sounds of guitar riffs floating up the stairs from the basement, accompanied by Finn's voice. "_Well, the kids will all get crayons to trace their shadows on the walls… Colored paper cranes inscribed with names; there'll be cranes, cranes, cranes flying overhead on wires, and on banners from the parking lots on end._"

Frowning, Kurt descended the stairs. His stepbrother was sitting at his desk, leaning back with a guitar in his lap and a notebook open on the desktop. "_There'll be origami lessons on demand, when Hiroshima comes to Disneyland!_" he sang. "_Oh, come on, come on... Wave to Hiro, Hiro! Wave to the fish-bellied samurai! Hai, hai, hai... Goodbye, goodbye—_" He stumbled over the rhythm, shook his head and muttered something, picking up his pencil and scratching something out in his notebook.

"Did you write that?" Kurt asked, going over and letting his bag fall onto his bed.

Finn looked up, surprised. He hadn't noticed Kurt come in. "Yeah," he said. "Mr. Palola gave us a multi-media assignment for the unit on the Vietnam War in history class. I borrowed Puck's guitar."

Kurt nodded. "Sounded good."

Finn squinted at him. "You look like you're trying to figure out how to say something potentially bad."

"I am."

Finn put the guitar on the floor, swiveling around in his chair and silently prompting Kurt to speak.

"I'm worried about you, Finn."

"That's not exactly new."

"I know, but..." Kurt sighed. "I just... I feel like there's something you're not telling me. Is there?"

Finn stared at him for a second. "No?"

"Well, how about that you passed out today?"

Finn's eyes narrowed and he cocked his head slightly. "Is that what you meant by the thing I wasn't telling you?"

"No. I was using that fact to make a point."

"Well, I'm fine, Kurt. Mrs. Halverson said it was just dehydration."

"Halverson?" Kurt snorted. "She works at Alici's Deli when she's not at school, and she's no more qualified for the position than Mrs. Schuester was. And besides that, Rachel took your pulse after you collapsed; she said your heart was racing at almost a hundred-fifty beats a minute. Finn, that's tachycardia. Tachycardia's not good."

"Kurt, it's not like I think this is nothing, okay? I'm gonna tell Dr. Rawlings about it when I go in tomorrow. I just didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

"Finn—"

"Seriously, Kurt. Stop it."

Kurt frowned, studying his stepbrother. There it was again – the twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach telling him that there was something that just _wasn't right_. "Finn, I feel like there's something I don't know, and to be honest, it's really starting to scare me."

A shadow flitted over Finn's face, though Kurt wasn't quite sure why, but then it was gone and Finn was once again telling Kurt to leave it alone. "Just let the doctors be the ones to figure it out, okay?"

Kurt sighed. "Fine, but don't think I'm letting this go."

Finn picked up the guitar again. "Whatever."

* * *

The next day, Finn was sitting on the edge of the examination bed with his head locked in a brace against a machine that looked like it had been stolen from the set of _Brazil_, and MacPherson was on the other side of the contraption, peering at Finn's eyes through a couple lenses and under a concentrated light that made it difficult for Finn to see anything besides the doctor's magnified eyeballs, which really just freaked him out and made him restless.

"Any history of eye trouble?" MacPherson asked. He was almost sixty, with a distinct Larry King-eque look to him that never failed to make Finn uncomfortable every time he entered an exam room.

"No, never," Carole answered from where she sat on the other side of the room with Burt. "He's never had glasses or contacts or anything."

"Okay, and you said it went really bright before you passed out?"

"Yeah," Finn said, finding it a little hard to talk with his jaw pressed onto the chin brace.

MacPherson clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth and stepped back, reaching around the contraption to turn off the light, wheeling it into the corner once Finn had pulled his head out. "Well, brightness without the actual light of the room changing usually indicates that there's a problem with your pupils."

"Um, I heard that there was more than one kind of seizure," Burt started. "You think maybe Finn had another seizure, just a different type?"

"It's possible, but unlikely."

"Well, then what is likely?" Burt demanded, a slight trace of annoyance seeping into his tone. Carole squeezed his hand.

MacPherson stuck his hands into his pockets and appeared thoughtful. "Dr. Rawlings suggested that the seizures and dizzy spells were Finn's brain's equivalent of a computer RAM crashing. His brain is performing too many tasks at once and as a result, briefly stops working the way it's supposed to."

"Oh, my God," Carole whispered.

"There's no way we can know if that's actually true unless we know the direct cause of all his symptoms, though," MacPherson continued. "And when the disease is in the brain, it's real tricky to get to."

"Disease?" Carole echoed, visibly tensed.

MacPherson sighed, clasping his hands at his waistline. "It's...highly probable at this point, with the rate that Finn's brain seems to be malfunctioning, that whatever's causing it is not going to benefit him in the long run. Which is why, from now on, we need to focus on doing whatever it takes."

* * *

Finn, Burt, and Carole had left for Columbus at eight in the morning and left Kurt to his own devices for the rest of the day. As he did on most Saturday mornings, Kurt sat at the kitchen table poring over the latest Vogue Magazine while slowly drinking a massive mug of coffee brewed black. He was planning on going to the mall later with Mercedes, but for now it was his designated relaxation time, so he was more than a little peeved when there was a heavy knock on the front door and he was forced to answer it while still clad in his pajamas.

"Puck? What are you doing here?" Kurt blurted out.

Indeed, Noah Puckerman was standing on the porch with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his shoulders hunched a little more than usual. "Where's Finn?" Puck asked.

Kurt frowned, his intuition kicking in. Puck was regarding him with a level, expectant stare as he waited for his question to be answered. Strangely, Puck's expression and stance were both completely void of hostility or cockiness. He was just...standing there. Almost vacant. And it was more than a little unnerving.

"Um...hello?"

Kurt snapped back into real time. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Where's Finn?" Puck repeated, and it was only then that Kurt realized Puck hadn't made a gay crack about Kurt staring at him.

Something was definitely off.

"Uh, he – he went to Columbus with Dad and Carole. He had, uh, a medical appointment," Kurt stammered, racking his brain for possibilities as to why Puck was acting like this. "You want me to give him a message?"

A muscle twitched in Puck jaw and a couple moments passed before he spoke again, his voice still weirdly flat. "Nah. I'll come by again later. When's he back?"

"Probably not until eight or so," Kurt said. "Puck, is there something wrong?"

Kurt could practically see Puck's red flags shoot up. "No. Why?" was his curt response.

"You're acting weird." Suddenly, a piece fell into place in Kurt's brain. "Wait...did something happen yesterday?"

"When?"

"When you gave Finn a ride home."

"No."

Kurt crossed his arms. "Puck, what happened?"

At this, Puck bristled and his defenses went up in less than a millisecond. "Fucking hell, Hummel, I just said nothing happened. Why do you have to over-analyze everything? Jesus." Then he stomped off the porch and didn't look back.

* * *

**A/N: And the tension increases... Leave a review! Oh, and after you do, I opened a new poll - visit my profile to vote for which _Unexpected_ installment is your favorite!**


	21. Chapter 20

**A/N: Oh. My. God. My internet is driving me insane. The connection completely disappeared on Wednesday morning, only THIRTY FRIKKIN SECONDS after I started watching Grilled Cheesus! I was SO pissed. ANYwho. I have another several chapters written for this one and they will (hopefully) be up soon, depending on how the internet fares. Apparently the modem's fried. I dunno, I'm not a techie. Anyways. Enjoy.

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_Chapter Twenty_

After Puck left, it was safe to say that Kurt was fairly freaked out. He'd been unable to focus on reading the rest of his _Vogue_ magazine, nor had he been able to concentrate on any of his homework, and when he and Mercedes went to the mall in the afternoon, he'd been absent-minded and she'd ended up asking him three times if there were alien parasites in his brain or if he needed a breathalyzer test.

"Sorry," he'd said, shifting his bag on his shoulder. "I guess I'm just not feeling the vibe today."

"Not feeling the vibe?" she'd echoed. "Boy, are you sick?"

So now, it was almost five-thirty and he'd come home from the mall empty-handed for the first time since grade school. Finn was dead asleep on the couch, having got back from Columbus early, and Kurt was sitting in the armchair aimlessly flipping through channels. One of the (many) disadvantages to living in the suburban Midwest, though, was that there was rarely anything on television unless it was sports, news, reality TV, or _How I Met Your Mother._ Kurt sighed and settled for the last option. Neil Patrick Harris wasn't _that_ bad to look at, after all.

Finn muttered something in his sleep, drawing Kurt's attention away from the screen for a moment. Even in forcibly induced sleep, Finn looked stretched and worn out, and Kurt was afraid that soon he was going to simply drop dead from lack of rest. He sighed and turned back to the television.

"Hey, Kurt," Carole appeared from the kitchen, holding a plate of leftover lasagna. "You hungry?"

"Ooh, thanks," he said, taking the plate from her. Anything Carole made always tasted amazing, even after it'd been reheated. "Where's Dad?"

She took a seat in the other armchair. "He's working on a particularly problematic Prius."

"Oh, Carole! What alliteration!" Kurt said with a grin.

"Okay, that's the last time I watch _The Producers_ with you."

Kurt giggled. As much as he missed his mom, Carole defied every stepmother stereotype in the books, and now he found it hard to picture life without her around.

The light mood they'd created evaporated when Carole glanced at her sleeping son and jumped when she saw that his eyes were wide open. "Finn?" she said, leaning forward. "Are you awake?"

Kurt put his dinner on the coffee table with a startled frown. Only a few moments ago, Finn's eyes had been closed. "His meds couldn't have worn off already, could they?"

"I – I don't think so," Carole said, waving her hand in front of Finn's face. His eyes didn't move. "Finn!"

Kurt knelt next to his stepbrother and shook his shoulder. "Finn," he said loudly. There was no response. "Some people sleep with their eyes open," Kurt stated weakly, not believing for a second that the scenario applied to Finn.

"Finn!" Carole cried, cupping his face so that he was looking directly at her. His eyes remained wide and unfocused, staring at nothing, almost as if he'd suddenly vacated his body. "Come on, honey, say something."

"Come on, Finn," Kurt chimed in, reaching for his wrist and feeling for a pulse. If Kurt had to judge only by Finn's heartbeat, he wouldn't have guessed that anything was wrong – it was pulsing at a steady, reassuring rate and giving no indication at all that something had gone awry. "He's breathing," Kurt said, half for Carole's benefit and half for his own.

Abruptly, Finn sat straight up, making Carole and Kurt yelp simultaneously. He was still staring, like someone had replaced him with a mannequin when they weren't looking "F-Finn?" Carole stammered. "Finn, can you hear me?"

Finn's only response was to swing his legs onto the floor and stand up, brushing by them without so much as a blink. His movements were odd, almost robotic, as he walked quickly from the living room towards the kitchen.

"I…I don't think he's awake," Kurt said, exchanging a frightened glance with his stepmother.

Carole circled around the couch and followed her son, Kurt trailing behind her. Finn went through the kitchen and into the garage, heading straight for Burt's desk. "Finn!" Carole called after him, making Burt lift his head from behind the hood of the car he was working on.

"What's going on?" Burt called.

"Finn, what are you doing?" Carole said desperately, a hand on Finn's shoulder as he started ruffling through the stacks of bills and paperwork.

"Burt can make an extra three thousand a year," Finn said without looking up. Kurt's eyes widened. Finn had spoken in a tone that was flat and monotonous, and it was without a doubt the scariest thing Kurt had ever heard.

"Finn, look at me," Carole begged, grasping his shoulder and pulling him around to face her. "Tell me what's happening. Sweetie, please, talk to me."

"The average person says over one hundred thousand words per day in everyday conversations," Finn recited.

"Kurt? What's going on?" Burt appeared beside his son.

"I…I don't know," Kurt managed. "He – he was asleep and then he just started…sleepwalking or something."

"When someone is sleepwalking, do not wake them up," Finn responded. "You might induce a panic attack as a result of the subject's disorientation."

"Jesus Christ," Burt breathed.

"Born zero A.D. He preached and healed throughout Palestine in the early decades of the first century. Died by crucifixion in Jerusalem. Also known as the Messiah, the Son of God, and Jesus of Nazareth."

Kurt didn't know which was more disturbing – Finn's vacuous behavior and expressionless responses, or the fact that he hadn't moved since Carole had turned him around. Burt reached up and waved his hand in front of Finn's nose, snapping his fingers a couple of times. Finn didn't notice.

"What should we do?" Kurt asked, at a loss. He would've known what to do if Finn was having another seizure, but if Finn was _non compos mentis_… The doctors hadn't given them any instruction for that scenario.

"Maybe he really is just sleepwalking," Burt said, sounding hopeful but not convinced. "We give him a few minutes and he goes back to bed."

"I think we should call the hospital in Columbus," Carole said quietly, her voice shaking slightly. "I don't want this turning into something worse."

Burt nodded brusquely and disappeared into the kitchen, and a couple seconds later they could hear him talking on the phone. Carole stepped forward and looped an arm around Finn's back. "Come on, honey, let's go back in," she urged gently, and Kurt could tell that she was putting a considerable amount of effort into not breaking down from sheer panic. Wordlessly, Finn allowed himself to be ushered back into the kitchen, past where Burt was on the phone, and towards the living room. However, when they passed the door down to the basement, Finn took a swift turn and was heading downstairs before Carole could pull him back. Kurt hurried after him, Carole on his heels.

"Finn, what are you doing?" Kurt pleaded, grabbing hold of Finn's arm as he reached towards his desk. "Come on."

"Honey, come back upstairs," Carole interjected. "I can make you some of that chicken soup you like."

"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched," Finn said, and in any other situation, Kurt would've laughed at him.

Finn turned back to his desk and snatched a Sharpie from the pencil holder, striding across the room to a blank space on the wall and, before Kurt or Carole could realize what he was doing, began to scrawl across the grey paneling.

* * *

By the time Burt thought to call Mr. Schue, the bedroom walls were covered in Finn's crazed scribbles, turning the bedroom into a place that looked like it belonged to a deranged schizophrenic instead of two teenage boys. Several pieces of the furniture had been overturned, and Kurt's vanity mirror had been smashed on the floor as Finn blindly shoved things aside to make more room to write across the walls. When Mr. Schue finally arrived and came down with Burt, Kurt had long since given up on trying to get Finn back upstairs, and was standing in the far corner watching his stepbrother frustratedly try to solve the problem of Dysnomia's trajectory.

"Oh my God," Kurt heard Mr. Schue say as he absorbed the scene.

"He's been like this all night," Kurt said.

"All night?" Mr. Schue repeated, astonished and more than a little afraid.

"Since about five," said Burt grimly.

Kurt heard Mr. Schue take a deep breath before he strode forward, kneeling next to his unstable student and speaking too softly for Kurt to pick up. Several tense minutes passed and Mr. Schue stood back up, returning to where Burt and Kurt were watching. "Has anything like this happened before?"

"Not this badly," Kurt said, trying to keep his voice from shaking as he watched Finn clench his jaw and cross out something. "I mean, pretty much at the same level as what he's been doing in school and Glee, but I've never seen him like this. This is new."

"If he gets any worse, I'm calling the hospital again," Burt declared gruffly. "Goddamn doctors, keep saying just to give him rest—"

"Mr. Schue?" Finn interrupted, swaying slightly on his feet.

"Yeah?"

Finn raked his ink-covered fingers through his hair. "I…I can't sleep."

Kurt shrieked when Finn's knees suddenly gave out and he keeled over, slamming into the ground hard. The three of them simultaneously rushed to Finn's side, and Burt rolled him over. "Finn! Finn, come on, buddy, look at me," he coached. Finn was breathing hard and his eyes were reeling, and Kurt gasped when he noticed that Finn's hand was clutching his own with a viselike grip that was probably cutting off his circulation.

"Seven-hundred forty nanometers," Finn snapped, not seeming to realize that what he was saying had absolutely nothing to do with anything taking place. "Two-hundred ninety-nine thousand, seven-hundred ninety-two kilometers per second."

Mr. Schue froze, his eyes widening. "He's bleeding."

Kurt's gaze snapped up to follow Mr. Schue's, and he felt his heart skip. Burt lurched to his feet. "I'm calling 911," he said before rushing back upstairs.

A dark tendril of blood was dripping from Finn's ear, winding its way down his neck and onto the floor. Kurt swallowed the panic bubbling in his throat and squeezed Finn's hand tighter.

"Finn, can you hear me?" Mr. Schue asked loudly, leaning over him.

Finn's eyelid twitched and he growled something in a different language.

"Was that Chinese?" Mr. Schue said, stunned.

"Finn, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand," Kurt urged him. "Come on."

Finn's only response was to twist his head rigidly to the side, the muscles in his neck tense and the tendons sticking out. Blood continued to slowly ooze from his ear.

Mr. Schue suddenly flinched and swore very loudly.

"What?" Kurt demanded, trying to ignore just how small his voice sounded.

"There – there's something wrong with his eyes."

Kurt leaned over to see what Mr. Schue was talking about, and almost screamed when he saw that Finn's left eye was still moving rapidly around the room, but his right eye had stopped moving completely and the pupil had blown, swelling over most of the iris.

Mr. Schue gulped audibly. "I don't think we can wait for the ambulance to get here. My car's out front."

* * *

**A/N: Aaaaaand we've come full circle, folks. Leave a review!**


	22. Chapter 21

**A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews on last chapter! Thanks also to Rapp Fan, who pointed out the Grilled Cheesus parallel when Kurt asked Finn to squeeze his hand. That was not intentional, actually - I wrote the chapter way before I ever saw the episode or the promo, but because I wrote the chapter out of sequence and my internet connection gave out, I didn't post it until afterwards. Whoops.

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_Chapter Twenty-One_

For the first time in his life, Puck was thankful for how quickly gossip traveled within the Glee club inner circle. Mercedes had called Kurt's cell nearly twenty times before he actually answered, practically in tears, and she managed to cajole him into telling her what had happened to Finn during the course of the night. The second Kurt had hung up, Mercedes had called Tina, who'd called Brittany and Santana, who'd called Mike, who'd called Puck. The whole process had taken less than a half hour, and by one o'clock Puck was pulling into the parking lot at Columbus Mercy.

"I'm looking for Finn Hudson," he said immediately once he approached the main floor's nurses station.

"Are you a family member?" the Asian nurse inquired after running the name through the hospital database.

"A friend."

"Mr. Hudson's condition is serious and until they can diagnose him, he's not allowed any visitors outside of family," she said with a professional smile. "Hospital protocol."

Her falsely cheery tone pissed Puck off, though, and he was already agitated so he didn't stop to consider the dangers of mouthing off to a nurse before he did exactly that. "Listen, Anna Wu," he snapped, his voice low. "I just drove two hours to see him, and I've known Finn a lot longer than both his stepdad _and_ stepbrother. I know goddamn well that his condition is serious. And I don't give a flying rat's ass about your fucking protocol. Got me?"

She coughed. "Sir, I'm going to ask you to step back from the desk before I call security."

Puck snarled and kicked the desk for emphasis, but backed down, trying to stop himself from punching her. He'd just have to go back to his truck, call Kurt, and have him tell the nurses to let him past. He stopped before he reached the doors, though, and without a second thought, spun on his heel and made a beeline for the elevators, checking over his shoulder to make sure that Anna Wu was still occupied with the next person in line. Next to the elevators was a department guide, and Puck followed the arrow pointing towards the ER, deciding to look there before going upstairs to Neurology. If Anna Wu wouldn't tell him where Finn was, he'd have to hunt his boy down himself.

After combing the ER and finding no sign of Finn, Puck was about to head back to the elevators when he saw Kurt sitting in the Emergency waiting area. "Kurt!" he called, picking up his pace.

Kurt had been zoning out, and he snapped back into real time at the sound of his name. "Puck?" he said in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"I came as soon as I heard." Puck dropped into the seat next to him. "What happened?"

"Well, what have you heard?" Kurt asked. He looked exhausted and his clothes were rumpled, and Puck didn't think he'd slept in the last twenty-four hours.

"Mike didn't tell me much. Just that Finn had some sorta fit and ended up back in the hospital. Was it another seizure?"

Kurt rubbed his eyes, which were red from fatigue. "That's what they're trying to figure out," he replied wearily. "It wasn't anything like what happened before."

Puck frowned. He didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

Kurt chewed on the inside of his lip for a second before explaining exactly what had gone down the night before, from Finn suddenly switching to autopilot to Mr. Schue driving them all to the Lima General ER at two-thirty in the morning, to Finn being later transferred to Columbus Mercy at the request of MacPherson and Rawlings.

"Jesus," Puck breathed when he finished, sitting back in his chair.

"He's coherent now," Kurt added. "And they managed to stop the bleed, but his eye's still paralyzed."

"Where is he now? I didn't see him in the ER."

Kurt took a deep, shaky breath. "He, uh…he's getting a CT scan. Dad and Carole are both with him. They should be almost finished by now, though."

Puck nodded.

"What happened?"

Kurt's question had been uttered so quietly that Puck wasn't sure he'd heard it. "Huh?"

"When you gave him a ride home. I know something happened. What was it?"

Puck exhaled heavily through his nose. He knew that Kurt was one of the more perceptive kids in the school, and while Puck was a good liar, he knew that the pretense would do no good where Hummel was concerned. "I can't tell you," he finally admitted.

"Wha—?"

"It's not my place."

Kurt's jaw clicked shut as he was caught off guard by Puck's uncharacteristic response.

"Just…talk to Finn, okay?" Puck said.

Kurt pressed his lips into a thin line, understanding that whatever _had_ happened was more serious than he'd originally thought, and resigned to a simple nod. "He's sick, isn't he?" Kurt asked softly. His voice cracked a little. "I mean…really sick."

Puck sighed, suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion pass over him. "I'm gonna head over to the cafeteria and grab a cup of coffee. You want one?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Okay. Be right back."

"Puck."

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here."

Puck shrugged and started toward the elevators.

* * *

An hour later, Puck was sitting beside Finn's bed as they waited for Rawlings and MacPherson to come back with the CT results. Kurt was peering out the window at the third-floor view, and Burt and Carole were in a conference with both doctors, so the three boys had the room to themselves.

"I gotta say, you look really freaky," Puck said bluntly.

Finn managed a laugh, though he wasn't actually smiling. Puck was right, though. The state of Finn's eye hadn't changed since he'd collapsed in the basement, and it was unsettling to look at him when his left eye was moving independently of his right. Not to mention the alarmingly large pupil. "Yeah, my depth perception's completely off," Finn said, scratching the back of his head.

"You should get an eye patch," Puck suggested. "Then you could be working the whole badass James-Bond-villain shtick."

Finn cracked a grin. "Or a pirate. All I'd need is a parrot and a hook for a hand."

"It's another eleven months until Halloween swings round again," Kurt reminded them from where he was standing by the window. "Little early to be planning, don't you think?"

Puck ignored Kurt's commentary. "I say go with the James-Bond-villain thing. Easier to maintain, and more badass. Besides, you can smoke cigars. Oh! Or what about like a gangster from Sherlock Holmes? _That_ would be badass."

Finn's grin grew wider. "That movie was awesome," he said. He raised a hand and quoted, "My mind rebels at stagnation!"

Kurt watched a bird circle in the air outside, listening to Puck and Finn's banter. He could tell that Puck was trying (and succeeding) to distract Finn from the fact that he was in the hospital, and Kurt felt a pang of guilt when he realized that if it had been himself trying to cheer Finn up, he would've failed miserably. He wasn't good at avoiding tension and awkwardness, and he'd always been the one to bring up whatever giant elephant was in the room at the time. Puck could easily pretend that it wasn't there, and Kurt knew that that was what Finn needed right now.

A few minutes later, the door slid open and MacPherson and Rawlings both entered, followed by Burt and Carole. Kurt's greeting smile slid off his face when he saw that Carole's eyes were red and puffy, and Burt seemed to be supporting her more than she was standing on her own. Rawlings was holding a large brown envelope that presumably contained Finn's CT results.

"Dad? What's going on?" Kurt asked.

Rawlings was about to say something, but he noticed Puck's presence and stopped himself in time. "Are you a friend of Finn's?"

Puck ignored the question and instead exchanged a suspicious look with Finn.

Rawlings sighed. "Would you excuse us?"

Narrowing his eyes at the doctor, Puck nearly refused, but then thought better of it and stood up. "Sure," he said flatly giving Finn a light fist bump before brushing out of the room. Whatever the doctors had to say, it was for family's ears only, and there was a park outside where Puck could wait. He needed some fresh air anyways.

* * *

**A/N: And the tension continues to build... I'm starting to feel like I'm writing a House episode...**


	23. Chapter 22

**A/N: So...I was totally intending on uploading this tomorrow, but I wasn't sure if I could get to a computer tomorrow and I felt bad about leaving it with a short-ish filler chapter right after Finn's mental explosion (or implosion, depending on your point of view). But, since I already had it written, I figured I'd post two chapters in the same day. Meh. This is what happens when authors write things completely out of sequence.

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_Chapter Twenty-Two_

"It's a tumor."

"_What?_" Kurt cried. Burt shushed him.

Rawlings pulled a translucent sheet from the manila envelope and held it up towards the window so that the sunlight shone through it, making the picture of Finn's brain visible. Kurt froze and his eyes widened. Even as a high school kid who hated anatomy class, Kurt could tell that the image did not depict a healthy brain. There was a network of dark narrow ribbons stretching throughout the grey matter, like a cobweb that had been left in the attic for too long, or the tendrils of some anamorphic parasite gone unnoticed.

"It's…it's unlike any tumor the medical world has ever encountered before," Rawlings was saying, and Kurt forced himself to listen. "Instead of behaving detrimentally, the tumor is acting the way nerve cells do, stimulating brain activity instead of preventing it and creating bridges of communication between areas of your brain that are supposed to be inactive. That's the part we can't figure out."

Finn nodded silently in understanding, and Kurt gaped at him. Wasn't he scared? Shocked? Hell, was he even _surprised_?

"So, how…how do we fix it?" Kurt managed to ask.

Rawlings and MacPherson exchanged a look and Carole stepped away from Burt's arm to hold Finn's hand. "There's no solid mass that we can remove," MacPherson said slowly. "The tumor's branched out like tree roots, it's barely thick enough for the CT to pick up. And even if we could remove it, it's too integrated into his brain structure by this point."

"To remove the tumor would be to remove his nervous system entirely," Rawlings added grimly, sliding the CT image back into the envelope.

Carole squeezed Finn's hand, biting back a sob, and ran her hand over his hair affectionately.

"So what happens now?" Kurt demanded. "If you can't fix it, what happens?"

"Kurt—" Burt started.

MacPherson held up a hand, cutting Burt off. He sighed and turned back to Kurt. "The tumor will continue to develop," he said simply. "We did everything we could."

Kurt jaw dropped. "What, you're just going to let it keep growing?" He was fighting tears by this point, and his voice was steadily increasing in volume. "You're just going to sit by and watch? I thought doctors were supposed to _help_ people!"

"Kurt!"

Kurt's head whipped round in astonishment. Finn was watching him with a warning look that seemed almost pleading.

"There's nothing more they can do, Kurt," Finn said gently.

Feeling the panic return to clawing at the base of his throat, Kurt sunk into one of the chairs as Finn turned his attention back to the doctors. "How long do I have?" he asked, and Kurt wanted to cover his ears.

"It's impossible to say," MacPherson answered. "Maybe weeks. Maybe days."

Carole's stoic defense slipped and she let out a choked gasp, a few tears sliding down her cheeks. "It's going to be okay, sweetie," she whispered.

Rawlings sighed. "It most likely will not be painful," he said, trying to sound sympathetic. Kurt wanted to throttle him. "The tumor's already taking too much blood and it's depriving your brain of oxygen. Everything that's happened over the past two months is beginning to reverse itself."

Kurt thought back to the night before, when Finn grew more and more frustrated as he tried to solve the problem of Dysnomia's trajectory. A week ago the equation would have been easy for Finn.

Rawlings was still talking. "The bleed was caused by the tumor pressing against a vein in your inner ear until it ruptured. Another part of the tumor is also choking off the nerves that connect your brain to the muscles behind your eyes; the illusion of the room growing brighter when you were at school was the start of the paralysis."

"Is my other eye gonna get paralyzed too?"

"We don't know."

"So…how will I—?" Finn trailed off.

"Your brain is slowly failing in a process similar to a stroke," MacPherson said. "At first, you'll be forgetful, and your processing speed will slow down exponentially. You'll begin to lose the skills you've gained, and afterwards you'll gradually lose more basic functions. Walking. Talking. Memory. Eventually, your brain will stop sending signals to your heart."

Kurt didn't realize he was crying until he felt the drops on his face; he wiped them away quickly. This was not happening. This was the sort of thing that happened to families in cheesy Lifetime movies. This didn't happen to random makeshift families from the northern Midwest. This _couldn't_ be happening.

Rawlings cut in, leaning against the wall as he spoke. "There's a good chance that your heart will fail while you still have the majority of your brain function intact."

"And if it doesn't?"

The formal beside-manner tone shifted from Rawlings' voice, and for the first time since any of them had met him, he seemed sincere. "I'm sorry, Finn. This is beyond our understanding."

MacPherson pursed his lips, sticking his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "We'd like to ask for permission to perform open brain surgery."

Rawlings turned to his partner in surprise. Kurt's head snapped up, and Finn's face slowly contorted into a frown. Burt and Carole both looked stunned. "I thought you said that this thing was inoperable," Burt said.

"This would not be a lifesaving procedure."

Carole let go of Finn's hand, circling around the bed and coming to a stop in front of MacPherson, glaring daggers that would make most people quake. Her eyes were swimming. "You put him through countless tests, run him ragged, tell him he's dying, and then you have the audacity to come in here and ask him to give up the rest of his life so that you can satisfy your curiosity?" Her lip curled and her voice cracked. "_Fuck. You._"

"Mom," Finn said softly.

She heaved a long breath, steepling her hands against her mouth in a weak attempt to calm her nerves before returning to her son's bedside.

"The study of Finn's brain in its current condition could yield massive amounts of information that would be incredibly beneficial to the medical world," MacPherson said. "We're asking you to consider—"

Kurt lurched to his feet, ready to tear MacPherson a new one, when the low growl from Rawlings made him stop. "No, _you're_ asking."

MacPherson turned to his colleague in confusion. "What?"

"You didn't consult me on this," Rawlings accused.

MacPherson coughed. "May we speak in private, Dr. Rawlings?"

"No, we may not. I was never included on the decision to even _ask_ Finn if he was willing to do it."

"You were on board before," MacPherson stated nonchalantly.

"That was when we didn't think the surgery would kill him." Rawlings ground his teeth, turning to his patient. "I'm very sorry, Finn. I was not a part of this."

MacPherson picked up where he'd left off. "_I'm_ asking you to consider the bigger picture here, Finn."

Finn frowned. "Well, why does that have to be the bigger picture?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You're not asking me to sacrifice myself for a greater cause. You're asking me to give you my brain so that you can cut it up and use it to further your _own_ cause."

"Finn, you have a lot that you can offer to the medical world—"

"The _medical_ world?" Finn echoed, a trace of ire slipping into his voice. "What about _my_ world? I'm the patient here. You can make all the diagnoses you want, but when you boil it down, it's _my _call." His non-paralyzed eye hardened. "I want to go home. I want to keep working in the garage for as long as I can. I want to see my girlfriend. I want to go to school until I stop _walking_." Finn sat up a little straighter, and Kurt suddenly felt a small surge of pride amidst the terror and grief swimming around in his gut. "I'm not gonna spend the rest of my life in a hospital bed, and I don't want to be remembered as a case study in a damn textbook. So you can take your clamps and your scalpels and your fucking medical degrees, and you can shove them all up your ass."

MacPherson's mouth pressed into a thin line, and he regarded Finn with a look like he was debating whether or not to argue further. Finn's eye narrowed as if daring MacPherson to dispute him, and the doctor finally made the wise decision to turn and stalk out of the room.

Rawlings looked almost smug. "Under most circumstances, I would probably call a nurse to sedate a patient who was threatening a doctor, but I figure in this case it would be more than a little hypocritical. I'm afraid that a doctor can't be fired or even suspended over bad tactfulness, but…" He trailed off, shrugging. With an apologetic smile, Rawlings approached Finn's side with a hand held out. "I wish you the very best of luck, Finn."

Finn shook his hand. "Thanks."

Rawlings gave a simple nod before striding out.

Once the doctor was gone, a cold silence settled over the room, broken only by Carole's periodic sniffs as she desperately tried not to break down. Kurt sunk back into the chair, feeling winded and slightly numb. He studied his stepbrother, amazed at how calm Finn appeared. There was no sign of shock or disbelief. Only quiet acceptance. Like he'd known.

* * *

**A/N: Please don't kill me. Another thing that happens when authors write things out of sequence is that the endings get written before the rest of the story, and it's non-negotiable. Congratulations to Sahraylia, the only person to guess the cause of Finn's IQ jump. And don't worry, there's still several more chapters to go.**


	24. Chapter 23

**A/N: Wow! Two hundred reviews! You guys are as awesome as the Burt/Carole Parental SWAT Unit. Hope you like this one. Long chapter is long.

* * *

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_Chapter Twenty-Three_

Puck sat on a bench in the small shade park that the hospital had established on the premises, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. He was leaning back and watching the trees' bare branches sway slightly in the November breeze, and if he listened real carefully, he could hear the trunks creaking. The flowerbeds were dry and brittle, but Puck supposed that November was the one month when no one cared about the appearance of a garden. There were other people milling about in the park – doctors on their lunch breaks, family members and friends of patients – but none of them seemed to notice just how ugly the place looked in the cold. Puck sighed, his breath fogging up.

"Puck!" came a shout from across the lot, breaking him out of his slight trance. He frowned and twisted around on the bench to see who was calling him, surprised to see Rachel Berry climbing out of Mercedes' blue Volkswagen Beetle, and Mercedes herself was already crossing the street. Tina was clambering out of the back seat, closely followed by Mike, and the two of them fished Artie's chair out of the trunk, circling around the car to help him out.

"What are you guys doing here?" Puck said in lieu of a greeting, despite the fact that the answer was glaringly obvious.

"We all came," Rachel said breathlessly as she and Mercedes approached. "Matt's still a ways behind us with his truck, but we're all here. Even Santana. How is he?"

Puck hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek for a second as Mike and Tina came up, Artie rolling alongside them. Rachel noticed his misgiving expression, and the bright smile slid off her face. "What?" she said. The others exchanged worried looks.

"I don't know," he replied. "The docs just asked me to leave, and they looked like they had bad news." He shook his head. "That's all I got."

Rachel seemed to zone out then, staring at the frozen flowerbeds, and Mercedes muttered something along the lines of "Oh Jesus…"

"Is he dying?" Mike asked, wide-eyed, never the one for dancing around an uncomfortable question.

"I don't know," Puck repeated.

"Did he have another seizure?" Tina inquired.

"_I don't know._" Puck turned around, running a hand over his scalp in agitation. "I told you guys; they kicked me out as soon as the CT results came back."

"That's not good…" Artie said, half to himself.

Puck laughed hollowly. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock."

"So, uh…" Rachel started, her voice wavering. "When can we go in?"

"I don't know."

* * *

Somehow, the club ended up congregating in the park after Matt arrived with Santana, Quinn, and Brittany in tow. Nobody seemed to want to go inside and get warm, nor did they seem to want to talk. Instead, they crowded onto the three benches closest together, dragging one of them about ten feet closer to the others and earning odd looks from several passersby. And for the first time since they'd joined as a club, they sat in total silence.

Mercedes was the first one to see Kurt come out of the building. She called his name and waved to him, beckoning him to come over. The rest of the Gleeks could see that her Mama Bear strings were already gearing into action, but as Kurt crossed the street, uncertainty passed over her face. He was walking strangely, his movements a little jerky and tense, and his jaw was clenched. He was _furious_, though about what, she had no idea.

"Kurt?" she said when he approached, searching his face for any sign of what happened. His eyes were red and his skin blotchy.

To her astonishment, Kurt brushed right past her, stormed towards Puck, and punched the taller boy in the nose. Puck let out a loud grunt of surprise, stumbling back and reaching up to clutch his face as Kurt drew his fist back and struck him again, this time in the eye. Most of the Gleeks had stood up by this point, ready to defend either party once they could figure out who was in the right.

"_You fucking bastard!_" Kurt screamed, lunging at Puck. Mercedes leaped in front of him, a hand against his chest as she held him back.

"Calm down, baby," she soothed, grasping one of his hands.

Kurt snarled and yanked his hand away from her, pushing her to the side and charging toward Puck again. His hands collided with Puck's torso, and the larger boy toppled to the ground, his arms raised to protect his head as Kurt beat his fists against any body part he could reach. He was screaming at him again, but the Gleeks could hardly make out any words, and Mike and Matt reached forward to grab Kurt by the shoulders and wrench him back. Puck coughed and wiped blood from his nose, and Quinn and Santana helped him up, pushing him into a seated position on the bench. Kurt's face was red and Matt and Mike were struggling to contain him, and finally Mercedes stepped forward again, grabbing both of Kurt's hands and holding them tightly, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"Baby, listen to me. You need to calm down, take a breather, and then tell me what exactly Puck did. And then I will let you kick his ass like a rational human being," she promised. "Come on, honey, breathe with me. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Good job. Keep doing that."

With Mercedes' patient coaching, Kurt gradually regained control, and Matt and Mike stepped back to give him space. Once Kurt's shoulders had slumped and he was breathing normally and he was no longer screaming, Mercedes planted her hands on her hips. "Okay. Now why were you attacking Puck?"

Kurt didn't answer her, instead speaking directly to Puck in a low, broken growl. "You knew. You fucking _knew_."

The other Gleeks looked back and forth between Kurt and Puck with wide eyes, confused, and even Rachel said nothing.

Puck, however, seemed to understand exactly what Kurt was talking about, and he sighed wearily. "He asked me not to tell anyone," he said quietly. "He made me promise, okay?"

Kurt didn't say anything, his face twisting into a terrifying mix of anguish and resignation.

"I didn't want to," Puck added, as if it made a difference.

"I don't get it," said Brittany. Santana shushed her.

Rachel stepped forward, her eyes wide and afraid of what she was about to say. "Kurt, is Finn—" Her voice cracked and she started again. "Is Finn all right?"

Kurt drew a long, slow breath, looking up at the tree branches. "He's coming home tomorrow," he said tonelessly. He shook his head, closing his eyes for a second before turning and walking back across the street.

* * *

When the club crowded into Finn's room an hour later, all with solemn faces and fidgeting nervously, they were caught off guard by Finn's abrupt laugh.

"Oh my God, Puck, only you would get into a fist fight at a hospital."

The corner of Puck's mouth twitched and he remarked, "You don't look so good yourself."

"How come Finn has an eye patch?" Brittany wondered aloud.

He smiled. "Trust me, you don't want to see what's under it," he said, his fingers brushing against the gauze taped over his right eye.

Finn exchanged fist bumps and hugs with the boys and girls respectively, and they all managed to drape themselves in whatever position they thought was most comfortable around the room. Rachel, of course, was seated primly on the bed next to her ailing boyfriend, his hand clutched tightly in both of hers. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked, her eyes wide and frightened. She hadn't bought into his forced smiles.

"I'm fine, Rach," he said, not meeting her gaze. "Just blind in one eye is all." He shrugged and gave a half-grin. "No more driving for me – I get a chauffeur."

"Where's your family?" Tina wanted to know. She was sitting on Artie's lap in the corner.

He scratched at the tape where it was stuck to his forehead above his eyebrow. "They all went down to the cafeteria. Processing, I guess."

"And what about you?" Mercedes regarded him with an even gaze.

If it had been anyone else who'd asked, Finn probably would've avoided the question. But Mercedes was the only person in the room not looking at him with some form of pity, and for that he was grateful. _Leave it to Mercedes to be the voice of reason._ He sighed and gave a one-shoulder shrug, settling for, "I dunno. Still absorbing, I guess. I'm real glad you're all here, though."

Rachel turned her head to look out the window so that Finn wouldn't see her crying. "I wanted to kill that doctor when I heard what he wanted to do to you," she murmured, and they all knew that she meant _exactly_ what she'd said.

"We all did, actually," Artie piped up.

"Are you gonna come back to school?" Hope flashed across Mike's face amidst the apprehension.

Finn nodded. "For as long as I can, yeah."

Santana bit her lip. "How long is that?"

* * *

By four o'clock, the Glee kids had been forced by their growling stomachs to pay a visit to the cafeteria, and Burt and Kurt had stayed with the club to allow Finn and Carole some time alone. Carole was sitting with her legs stretched out next to Finn's, and he was leaning tiredly on her shoulder.

"You stopped letting me do this when you were in second grade," she said, smiling softly at the memory, her arm lightly cradling his head as her fingers combed through his hair.

"Do what?"

She sighed, looking at the clouds passing by outside. "Oh, it was just something I used to do when you were upset. You would sit like this and I'd just wait until you were ready to talk about whatever was bothering you."

"I remember that," he said slowly with a thoughtful frown.

"And then I'd make you chicken soup to cheer you up."

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards. "You used to sing, too."

"I did, didn't I?" She leaned her head back against the wall. "I forgot about that part." Several minutes passed in silence. "You feeling okay?"

He blinked, having zoned out a few seconds before. "Yeah," he said. "I'm just tired." She planted a kiss on his temple. "Hey, Mom?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"What was that song you used sing me?"

"You want me to sing it?"

"Yeah."

"You could ask Kurt when he gets back," she suggested. "He's got a nicer voice than me, and I'm way out of practice."

"No, I want to hear you. I hear Kurt singing all the time."

"Okay. If that's what you want." Carole ran a hand through his hair. Clearing her throat, she began to croon softly, "_Spend all your time waiting, for that second chance. For a break that would make it okay…_"

The corner of Finn's mouth twitched and he closed his eyes in contentment.

"_There's always some reason to feel not good enough, and it's hard at the end of the day. In the arms of the Angel, fly away from here... From this dark cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear..._"

Her fingers idly traced circles on his shoulder. She hadn't sung this song since Finn was seven and he'd come home from school early, close to tears and with a black eye and bloody nose. The memory raised a lump in her throat.

"_You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie... You're in the arms of the Angel. May you find some comfort here..._"

Carole trailed off. "I, uh... I don't remember the rest of the words," she lied, her voice trembling.

"S'okay, Mom," he slurred, already half asleep. "'m kinda tired anyway."

She smiled sadly, her fingers running through his cropped hair again. He was asleep within seconds, his head heavy on her shoulder. She leaned her cheek against the crown of his head, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed deeply and evenly. It was the first time he'd fallen asleep without the help of drugs in two months, and she let out a sigh of relief. She could feel his heart beating through the vein in his temple where he was leaned against her shoulder, and slowly, her eyes closed, and she drifted.

* * *

It was almost seven when Finn woke up again, and for a few moments he was confused about where he was. Burt was sitting in the chair below the window, scowling at the newspaper. The sky outside was just losing the last rays of sunlight.

"Burt?"

His stepdad looked up, folded the paper, and relocated to the seat closest to the bed. "Hey, kiddo. How're you feeling?"

Finn looked around the empty room. "Where is everyone?"

"Well, your mom went to find Rawlings to see if she could get some sleeping meds that we could take home for you. But Kurt and your friends all headed back home." Burt smiled to himself, scratching his jaw. "They, uh... got kicked out of the hospital."

"What! Why?"

"They cornered MacPherson outside the ER," Burt explained, still wearing that weird lopsided smile like he was trying really hard to keep a straight face. "And they slushied him."

Finn stared at his stepfather for a good ten seconds before speaking. "You're kidding, right?"

"Uh, no, actually. I'm not."

"…Why are you acting like you're okay with this?"

"Kid, I'm the one who paid for the slushies."

* * *

**A/N: The song that Carole sings is _Angel_ by Sarah McLachlan, and I really really REALLY want her to sing it on the show. Maybe a Parents' Night for the Glee club? She and Burt could have a badass duet. Leave a review!**


	25. Chapter 24

**A/N: Haha, I thought you guys would like the slushie thing. *shrug* The bastard deserved it. Anywho, read on. Longer chapter is longer.**

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_Chapter Twenty-Four_

"Holy _shit_."

"You really don't remember doing this?"

"No, none of it."

It was Monday afternoon, and Finn and Kurt were standing at the foot of the basement stairs, staring at the chaos strewn all over the walls in permanent marker. "This makes me look totally crazy, doesn't it?" Finn said.

"A little bit, yeah," Kurt admitted. "I'm surprised you never actually made it to the ceiling; I know you can reach it."

Finn cracked a wide grin, going over to his fish tank. "Hey, guys!" he greeted them. "You fed them while I was gone, right?"

"Yeah, of course. Though I think Mercedes is a little pissed at Brittany. They don't seem to be respecting each other's personal space."

"Drama, drama, drama," Finn muttered. "Well, they're fish, what do you expect?"

"You might want to get a separate tank for Mercedes," Kurt said, nodding to the brilliant purple betta fish at the surface of the water. "I read somewhere that betta fish can be vicious carnivores. Brittany's in danger."

"Yeah, maybe." Finn watched Brittany pick idly at the pebbles on the bottom.

Kurt crossed his arms, sinking onto his bed. "Finn, I… I told myself I wouldn't revisit this, but—" He shook his head.

"What?" Finn prompted with a frown.

Kurt chewed on the inside of his lip, staring at his shoes. "Why did you tell Puck?"

Finn sighed, scratching at the tape on his face and dropping horizontally onto his own bed. He studied the ceiling. "I was never that good at keeping secrets, Kurt. I needed to tell somebody."

"I know _that_," Kurt replied softly. "But why'd you tell _Puck_? You should've told your mom; she deserved to know."

"Kurt, put yourself in my shoes. If you were terminal and you figured it out before the doctors did, would you be able to tell your dad that you were gonna die?" Finn pretended not to notice Kurt wince.

"No. No, I guess not." Kurt fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "But what about me? You could have told me."

"Puck can handle this kinda thing. You can't."

Swallowing, Kurt swiped at his eyes. "God, how did you even figure it out?" he whispered.

"I saw the signs on the CT they took right after I had my seizure in the auditorium."

"And you didn't think to mention it to the doctors?"

Finn didn't answer, and the only sound for a long time was the quiet hum of the tank filter.

"I think you're wrong, though," Kurt said, breaking the silence.

Finn's brows snapped together. "About what?"

"About Puck being able to handle it."

* * *

"Finn, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Really, Mom, I'm fine," Finn insisted, downing the last of his orange juice on Tuesday morning. Carole sat across from him at the table, her brows knitted together. "It's just school; it's not like I'm going skydiving."

"I'm just worried about you, sweetie," she said, laying her hand over his. Her gaze fell on the gauze patch covering his eye.

"I know. Don't worry, I'm not going to football practice any more; I'll be home right after Glee club." He smiled. "No more strenuous activities, I promise."

"But…" She trailed off, biting her lip.

"But what?"

"It's just, if – if something should happen…" She sighed, seeming like she was trying to find the right words. "I don't want you to be alone."

"Mom, if something _does_ happen, I'm more likely to be alone here than I am at school, where there's almost seven hundred people."

Her expression hardened. "You know exactly what I meant, Finn."

His smile faded, and he exhaled heavily. "Yeah. But I'd rather be at school and going about my day like normal than moping around the house waiting for my brain to implode." She flinched. "Sorry. I just… I don't want to be focusing on the wrong thing, you know?"

Carole was silent for a while, her hand still lightly grasping his. "Okay," she finally said.

* * *

Finn rode to school in the front seat of Kurt's Navigator (which, thanks to him, hadn't needed a tank refill in the last month) and went about his day like normal, though he received several odd looks from people in the halls as a result of the gauze over his eye. He didn't see any of the Gleeks during the course of the school day except in a couple classes, when they weren't allowed to interact, so he hadn't gotten a chance to thank any of them for slushying MacPherson in his defense (the person he really wanted to thank was Brittany, since Kurt had told him the whole thing had actually been her idea).

Just as he was heading to Glee practice, however, a dizzy spell hit and he was forced to retreat to the bathroom, leaning over the sink as the room spun and hoping he wouldn't vomit. He was there for ten minutes before the door swung open and Karofsky and Azimio swaggered in, each holding an ice-cold Big Quench.

"What do you want?" Finn asked wearily, not in the mood to deal with their joint stupidity. He hadn't lifted his head since he was a little worried that doing so would result in the upchucking he was trying to avoid. Though…if he could aim right, he might be able to hurl all over their shoes, and that would definitely benefit him in the long run.

"Heard about your little fainting spell, Glee Boy," Azimio sneered, and Karofsky flapped a hand against his forehead in a mock faint. "You feelin' okay? You don't look so good."

"Oh, I'm just peachy, thanks," Finn answered dryly.

"You quit the football team," Karofsky observed with a cruel grin. "Does this mean you're a hundred percent gay now?"

"Wow, Karofsky, you learned some math," Finn snapped. "Took you long enough; most schools teach percentages in what, fourth grade? You're only seven years late."

Azimio smirked, his eyebrows rising in false concern. "Hey, what's wrong with your eye? Your little gay friend poke it out with his stiff dick during Glee practice or somethin'?"

"That is _it_," Finn snarled, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the sink. "Kurt is my stepbrother, so don't you fucking talk about him like that around me or I swear to God I will kick your ass into the ground."

"Yeah?" Azimio grinned, taking an idle gulp from his slushie. "I'd like to see you try."

And Finn _wanted_ to. He really did. But the second he gave any sudden movement, another wave of nausea slammed into him and made him sway on his feet, and he knew that with one eye already incapacitated, he wouldn't be able to do anything except humiliate himself.

"I knew it," Azimio said triumphantly after Finn did nothing.

Finn was pretty sure that if Mr. Schue hadn't barged in at that moment, he would've ended up with a slushie shower. But thankfully, his Spanish teacher was standing there glowering at Azimio and Karofsky with his fists curled at his sides. "I think," he said slowly, "that Figgins would like to see you both in his office." Azimio quirked an eyebrow, unfazed, which seemed to piss Mr. Schue off even more. "_Now!_" he shouted suddenly, making Finn wince and the other two boys jump before hustling out the door. Mr. Schue huffed and turned to his student. "You okay, Finn?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice a little strained. "Little nauseous is all. I'll be fine; it's already starting to pass. Wait, aren't you supposed to be in the choir room right now?"

Mr. Schue stuck his hands in his pockets, coming up beside Finn. "Well, when you didn't show up for practice, we got pretty worried. The others are combing the rest of the school for you." He scratched his nose. "They thought that…well, they were scared something had happened."

Finn didn't say anything.

"Do you think you're well enough to come to rehearsal? You don't need to if you don't want—"

"No," Finn said quickly. "No, I want to, I just— I didn't want to throw up right in the middle of a song or anything."

"Okay, take all the time you need."

Finn straightened up slowly. "I'm better now," he said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, let's go."

"Okay." Mr. Schue laid a hand on Finn's shoulder as they walked down the corridor towards the choir room, which they found to be empty except for Brittany.

"Oh, yay!" she said when they came in, clapping her hands cheerfully. "You found him! Where was he?"

"Bathroom," Mr. Schue said.

Brittany turned to Finn, wide-eyed. "Did you get lost in the sewers? 'Cause I did once. It was scary. It was like the labor-thing."

"Labyrinth," Mr. Schue corrected, taking Brittany's odd commentary in stride.

"No, I didn't get lost," Finn assured her.

"Oh, good."

"Hey, listen, Britt… I just really wanted to thank you for sticking up for me on Sunday. That was a really brave thing you guys did, slushying the doctor like that."

"It's okay, it was fun! Even though the security guards got really mad at us afterwards." She shrugged. "I should probably call the others. They told me to stay here in case you came back, but I think it's just because I can't remember where the choir room is most of the time." She turned around and pulled out her cell phone to call Santana, wandering off towards the drum set.

It took another ten minutes for all the others to file back into the choir room from their school-wide search, mostly in pairs. Mercedes and Kurt both looked ready to smack Finn over the head for scaring the hell out of them, and if he'd been late for any other reason, they probably would have. Rachel let out a massive sigh of relief when she saw he was alive and well, and she hugged him tightly enough to make him cough.

"Okay. Now that we're all here, we can start." Mr. Schue took his place at the front of the room, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Finn, your fellow club members have prepared a number specially for you," he announced.

"Really?"

"And, with your permission, they'd like to perform it for you now."

Finn gave a broad smile. "Sure," he said, pleased. "What song is it?"

The rest of the club climbed off the risers and stood in a line as Mr. Schue went to sit on the sidelines, Puck and Artie both holding their guitars. "Actually, it's an original work," Rachel said.

"You guys _wrote _a song for me?"

She nodded. "We all contributed to it, so it's from all of us."

"Now shut up and listen," Puck said. Finn fell silent as Puck and Artie began to pick a somewhat complicated melody from their strings, the sounds of their respective guitars weaving in and out of one another. Expecting Rachel to be the first one to sing, Finn was surprised when Quinn opened her mouth instead.

"_If I grew wings out of my spine, would you fly away with me?_" she sang softly, holding Brittany's hand.

"_Into the heart of the sunrise,_" Tina joined in. "_Into the heart of everything…_"

Then it was Rachel's turn, singing, "_All my life I was a moon, falling into love with ocean tides… Takes strength to come and go so soon; yeah, we know how to say goodbye. Say goodbye…_"

Mercedes' voice swept over the room, richly crooning, "_Don't leave me. Darlin', won't you stay? We all know, leaving's hard anyway._" Kurt meshed his voice with hers, and together they repeated, "_We all know… leaving's hard anyway._"

Alone, Kurt sang, "_I would hold you if I could—_"

"_We're only flesh and bone sometimes,_" Puck cut in.

"_And now I'm standing where we stood,_" Kurt continued. "_All empty arms are only mine…_"

Brittany and Santana then joined in, singing in unison. "_And I can't seem to find my way back home… No, I can't seem to find my way back home… And I'm flying, I'm flying away. All alone._"

If Finn hadn't been the type of person who bottled up his emotions, he probably would have been crying by that point. It was a simple number – there was no flashy choreography – and the song really was beautiful…

"_Don't leave me…_"

"_Darlin', won't you stay? We all know…_"

"_Leaving's hard anyway…_"

…But as much as Finn appreciated the fact that they had done this for him in addition to attacking MacPherson, he couldn't help but feel just a little bit angry. He'd wanted to come to school and have it play out normally; he just wanted to forget for a little while that he was terminal. He should've known that the kids in Glee would refuse to pretend.

All eleven of the standing club members joined in as the chorus cycled around and repeated. "_And I can't seem to find my way back home… No, I can't seem to find my way back home. And I'm flying, I'm flying away—_"

The song was abruptly cut short when Finn lurched to his feet and hurriedly strode out of the room, leaving the Gleeks stunned and confused. Mr. Schue leapt up and ran out into the hall after him, calling his name.

"Mr. Schue?" Puck slung his guitar onto the piano. "It's fine; I'll go."

The teacher sighed, looking down the corridor towards the bathroom door that had just swung closed after Finn. "Okay. Take as long as you need."

Puck nodded and, with an uneasy glance at Kurt, went after his best friend. "Dude…you okay?" he said tentatively. Finn was bent over the sink, peeling the gauze away from his eye.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry, I just— can you grab my backpack for me?"

Puck frowned in confusion. "Um…"

"Just do it, Puck," Finn said, dropping the patch onto the side of the sink and splashing a small amount of water onto his face.

Puck felt his heart lurch when he saw the bright red splotch on the gauze square and the swirls of crimson going down the sink drain. "Holy—"

"Puck, just get my bag," Finn repeated loudly. "Please?"

"Uh, yeah, okay," Puck stammered, backing out of the bathroom and rushing back to the choir room. He was met with a chorus of "What's going on?", "Where's Finn?", "Is he okay?", and several other overlapping questions that he didn't listen to. Instead, he muttered a hurried excuse, grabbed Finn's knapsack, and was back outside before the Gleeks could figure out what was going on.

"What do you need?" Puck asked as soon as he was back in the bathroom, already unzipping the bag and rummaging through it.

"In the front pocket, there's some more gauze and tape," Finn said. "Never mind, I'll do it." He snatched the bag from Puck's hands and fished out the supplies he needed. "Thanks."

"Fucking hell," Puck muttered. "You crying?"

"Huh? Oh. No." Finn wiped a drop of blood off his cheek. "No, it's a bleed like the one in my ear. The tumor presses on a vein and then it ruptures. This time it's behind my eye."

Puck shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what he should be doing. "You need the hospital or something?"

"No, it's not a big bleed," Finn answered, placing another white square over his unmoving eye. "My eye's already paralyzed; it doesn't really matter."

"Sure looks like it matters," Puck retorted.

Finn sighed. "I know you're freaked out, man. You can leave if you want to. You don't have to be here."

"If you think I'm going anywhere when my boy's bleeding out of his eyes, you have another thing coming."

Finn's mouth twitched. "Mercedes is rubbing off on you."

"Yeah, maybe."

"You should date her again; the two of you would work if you weren't using her," Finn said, placing the last piece of tape over the bottom of the eye patch.

"Don't try to change the subject, man. Not with me. I practically _invented_ that."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Screw you. You're fucking _bleeding_ out of your _eye_."

"I'm aware."

Puck sighed, planting his hands on his hips. "You sure you should be at school right now?"

"_Yes,_" Finn insisted, gritting his teeth as he rinsed off his hands and tossed the soiled gauze in the trash. "Better here than sitting around at home."

* * *

**A/N: Leave a review! Not sure when the next chapter will be up, but there's still several to go :)**


	26. Chapter 25

**A/N: Having no internet in the house is INCREDIBLY frustrating. Not only is the modem fried, but also the router. I. Hate. Technology. Thank god for public libraries.**

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_Chapter Twenty-Five_

When Burt came into the kitchen for a coffee break from the garage, he heard raised voices coming from the basement stairwell. His coffee forgotten, he stood at the top of the stairs, listening to his son and stepson arguing. From the sound of it, the quarrel had been going on for a long while already. Burt debated whether or not to get Carole, who was upstairs taking a much-needed nap.

"Kurt, I am _fine_."

"Don't you _dare_ play that card with me, Finn Hudson!"

"Will you stop acting like my mom?"

"If you refuse to take care of yourself, then another mom is _exactly_ what you need!"

"I _am_ taking care of myself!"

"_Look around you, Finn!_ Our room looks like it's from the set of _Number 23_! You _cannot_ go back to school!"

"Why? Because I might drop dead at any second?"

"Yes!"

Burt flinched as Finn's already-loud voice got louder. "_Who the hell are you to tell me how I spend the rest of my life?_" he screamed. There was a tense pause, and then he spoke again, no longer yelling but still maintaining the same force in his words. "It's my life, Kurt. Mine. And if you think I'm gonna waste the rest of it being pitied and treated like something fragile, then you're a _fucking idiot_."

Silence stretched between them, and Burt could practically feel Kurt crumbling. He chewed his lip, trying to decide whether or not to intervene. This wasn't like the last time he'd eavesdropped on one of Finn and Kurt's heated disputes – it was deeply personal, but not for either of the Hummels. He wasn't certain how much right he had to be a part of it. The decision became unnecessary, though, as he heard Finn storm up the stairs.

"Everything okay?" he asked when his stepson burst into the hallway.

Finn jumped and whipped around. "Jesus, you scared me."

"Sorry. Is everything okay?" Burt repeated.

"Fine," Finn snapped, turning away and stomping up the stairs to the guest room. Burt heard the door slam and sighed, heading down to the basement.

Kurt was sitting in the armchair in the corner, curled over with his face buried in his hands.

Burt exhaled slowly, and knelt in front of him. "Kurt?" he said softly.

Kurt's shoulders shuddered and he sucked in a huge breath, as if he hadn't inhaled in a while. He raised his head, sniffing and wiping tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm just… God, I'm tired."

"Maybe you should stay home tomorrow," Burt said. "Y'know, take the day off."

The younger Hummel gave a hollow laugh punctuated by a hiccup. "Right. Finn's brain is going haywire and I'm the one who gets a sick day."

"Kurt, you know that Finn's just as scared as you are. If not more."

"I know, and the last thing he needs is me jumping down his throat about it. I know." Kurt sniffed and brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

"No, he just needs to know that you've got his back, no matter what," Burt assured him, reaching forward to grip his son's shoulder. "And I _know_ you do. But— look at me." Kurt sighed, closing his eyes for a second before forcing himself to meet his father's gaze. "But telling him that he should spend what little time he's got left at home does not scream 'supportive'. The only person who can make Finn go against whatever he's decided is Carole, and you and I just don't have a right to try and change his mind. I know that you care about him, Kurt, and believe me, I care about him too. But _our_ job is to make sure that for every second he's got, he is _happy_. And if that means allowing him a little room for some minor denial, then we have to give him that. We owe him that much."

* * *

"I don't mean to be rude, Miss Pillsbury, but…why am I here?"

Emma's eyes grew even wider like they did every time one of the students threw her a curveball. "Well, uh, Finn, I – I know that certain things have come up in your life recently—"

"You mean me having a brain tumor and the fact that I'm gonna die within the month." Finn quirked an eyebrow. "That about sum it up?"

Emma flinched at his casually bitter tone. He was watching her from across the desk with a level, expectant stare and sitting with such passivity that it was frightening. She sighed and forced herself to be as stoic as possible. This was when her job really counted. "How are you doing?"

"As well as can be expected."

"And how well is that?"

He chuckled under his breath. "That's a dumb question."

"Maybe so, but the answer is important."

"Did Mr. Schue put you up to this?"

Emma leaned forward on her elbows. "Finn, it is my job to act as someone who students can turn to when they're dealing with tough issues. Issues like what you're going through right now, and I—"

"I'm terminal." He gave an exhausted shrug. "There's nothing more to talk about; I've accepted it. Isn't that what you psychologists are always going on about? Five stages of grief?"

She didn't say anything. In her line of work, Emma had faced down some pretty messed-up things – a girl eating her own hair, a boy who thought it was okay to masturbate in public, kids traumatized by abuse… But this was something she'd never seen before, and it scared the living hell out of her.

"You want me to follow Mr. Schue's example and sing about how brokenhearted I am? How life's too short and you should make the most of it while you can? You want me to – to talk about my feelings with you for an hour a day until I'm six feet under?" He shook his head. "I can't do that. I haven't slept in over two months, and frankly, I don't have the _energy_ to be scared any more."

Emma stared at him, at a loss for what to say.

"Look, Miss P., I really don't think I need to be here, okay? I'm not in denial, I'm not depressed, I'm not angry or anything else that means I need a therapist. There's no issues to dissect here."

She pressed her lips together, studying him. Even if Will hadn't told her what was going on, she still would've called Finn into her office – he looked terrible. Deep shadows were etched into the skin beneath his eyes and he'd lost a considerable amount of weight since the tumor had started to develop – she figured it must be messing with his pituitary gland, and that in combination with the lack of sleep could do some serious damage. Gaunt-faced, with stubble on his chin and a bandage over one eye, he looked like he belonged in a homeless shelter.

"Can I go now?" Finn prompted.

Emma gave her head a shake, jolting herself back into real time. "Okay," she said softly. "But my door is always open if you need to talk, you know."

"Yeah. Thanks." He heaved himself to his feet and headed for the door. Two steps into the hall, he stopped in his tracks. "Miss Pillsbury?" he called.

Emma stood and edged around her desk. "Yes?"

He turned around slowly, his face contorted into a frown.

"What is it, Finn?"

"…I can't see."

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**A/N: *cue dramatic theme* I've just posted a new story titled _Planetarium._ After you review, you should check it out :D**


	27. Chapter 26

_Chapter Twenty-Six_

When neither Finn nor Kurt had shown up to Glee practice on Wednesday afternoon, they'd all known something was up, and then as Mr. Schue walked in with a somber expression, they knew it was bad. Mr. Schue had made the announcement that Finn would no longer be attending school, and Rachel had strode out of the room without a second thought, quitting rehearsal early, and for the first time, her reasons for doing so had nothing to do with show choir.

Now, it was late evening, and Rachel sat on the porch of the Hummel-Hudson house, next to Finn on the bench by the door. They'd been sitting there for the past two and half hours, and Finn's mother and stepfamily had decided to remain indoors to give the two of them space. Rachel's legs were drawn up on the seat beside her and she was leaning on his shoulder, gazing out onto the street partly because it was calming to watch the minimal traffic pass by and partly because she was avoiding looking at Finn's face. He'd gotten rid of the eye patch, saying it was pointless covering up one eye when the other was just as unseeing, and it was more than a little unnerving to take in when both of his eyes were unmoving and with swollen pupils.

"You really can't see anything?" she asked softly.

He was staring out towards the street, almost like he was looking at something, though she knew he wasn't. "Nope. One hundred percent and totally blind," he replied.

"I don't understand. Why did your eyes stop working?" She hoped that he couldn't tell she was fighting tears.

"Same reason Artie's legs don't work. The nerves got disconnected."

"But…_why_?"

"Rachel, it's just a part of the process."

She bit back a sob and squeezed his hand. Unable to see her to give her a consoling smile, he simply returned the squeeze. "What time is it?" he asked.

"It's, uh…" Rachel glanced at her pink Minnie Mouse watch. "Eight-thirty."

"The sun should be setting soon," he said thoughtfully.

"It already did."

His eyebrows knitted together. "Oh. Must've gotten the hemispheres mixed up or something…"

The two of them fell into silence, their breaths clouding in the late November night air. Finn moved his arm around Rachel's shoulders when he noticed she was shivering. "You're not wearing a jacket," he observed.

She shrugged. "Slipped my mind."

"Well, your hands are freezing, so you should probably pop into the kitchen and borrow one of my mom's coats. She won't care."

"I'm okay."

"How dark is it now?"

"Pretty dark. The stars are starting to come out."

"Come here. I want to show you something." Abruptly, he stood up, reaching for where he thought the porch railing was. When he missed by a good two feet, Rachel pressed her lips together and took him by the arm, slowly guiding him down the porch steps to the middle of the front lawn.

"Okay," he said. "I'm facing the road now, right?"

She nodded and then remembered that he couldn't see the gesture. "Yes," she said.

"If you look…" His head tilted up towards the sky and he rubbed his jaw in thought. "If you look there," he pointed to a spot close to the eastern horizon, "there's a short band of three stars in almost a perfect line. Can you see them?"

She squinted through the glow from the streetlamps. "Yes."

"That's Orion's belt," he explained. "Now, below it and above it there's another four stars arranged in a sort of weird rectangular shape. Those are his shoulders and knees. See 'em?"

Rachel smiled when she saw what he was talking about, a little amazed that he could do this from memory. "Yeah, I see them. Is that what you wanted to show me? Orion?"

He chuckled. "No. Orion's easy. Do you know what a nebula is?"

"Vaguely. Isn't it just a gas cloud in outer space?"

"Not just a gas cloud," he said, grinning. "I don't think you can actually see it right now since it's on the horizon at this time of year, but right between Orion's knees is a nebula that you can see with the naked eye for most of the time that Orion's in the sky."

Rachel frowned. She hadn't paid much attention in Astronomy class (after all, she'd been interested in a very different kind of stardom), but she did remember some things. "Can't you see most nebulas with the naked eye? They look like stars."

"Not the Orion nebula. From where we stand, it looks like a really faint splotch of grey. It's one of the closest nebulas to Earth – only two thousand light years away, and it's about twenty light years across."

She smiled as he rambled, gazing blankly up at the sky. It was sort of extraordinary to watch Finn take such joy in something, and though she had never been a science geek or anything of the like, Rachel could relate; what she could see in his face right then was what she felt every time she was performing.

"Do you know what a nebula is?" he asked again.

She leaned into his side. "Why don't you tell me?"

"It's a bridge."

"Huh?"

"A bridge," he repeated. "You're right; it really is just a gas cloud, but that cloud is all that's left over after a star goes supernova and dies, and it's a pretty spectacular way to go, if you ask me. And inside the gas cloud, there's literally _thousands_ of baby stars forming. It's a bridge between the end of one star and the beginning of another."

Rachel stared up at the black stretch of sky between Orion's knees. "That's incredible," she said softly, feeling small.

Finn turned his head towards her. "Did you know that every atom in our bodies used to be in a star somewhere in outer space?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Atoms are never created or destroyed; they're only recycled. We're _all_ recycled. That's just the way things are, you know?"

"I'm not sure whether that's depressing or beautiful."

He laughed and hugged her close with one arm. "It's both. It's always both."

Rachel tore her eyes away from the sky and forced herself to look up at him. "Are you scared?"

He sighed, his smile fading. "I don't know."

"I'm sorry you were only able to come to school for two days."

"More like one and a half," he said, a little bitter. "Rachel, I'm really sorry I won't be around for your birthday. I wanted to be there."

Her lip trembled and she swallowed, trying to speak evenly. "You might be. My birthday's on the 18th; that's not even three weeks from now."

"I think…" he said slowly. "I think if I _am_ still around then, I won't be in any condition to go out."

"What do you mean?" She hoped Finn hadn't noticed her voice squeaking.

He exhaled slowly, his breath hanging in the air before slowly dissipating. "My brain's dying, Rach." He chewed on the inside of his cheek, not wanting to say anything more than that. "Do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"On your birthday, I want you to drive out to the Twin Lakes Campground – it's about twenty miles northwest of Lima. Bring binoculars, and make sure you're there at midnight. Orion will be in the sky, towards the south, and if it's clear, you should be able to see the nebula."

Rachel gazed at him for a long time, her brows knitted together. She didn't realize she was cold until her teeth started chattering and Finn pulled her into a tight hug. "You okay?" he asked.

She sniffed, forcing the lump in her throat downwards. "I'm fighting the urge to sing 'Come What May' with you right now."

"Well, I'd like to avoid making this any cheesier, if possible."

"Cheesier?"

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a half-smile. "Nothing, it just occurred to me that tonight was eerily reminiscent of _A Walk To Remember_."

"…You know what reminiscent means?"

"Yes, Rachel, I know what reminiscent means, and I also know how to pronounce it, spell it, and say it in three other languages besides English – Spanish, Greek, and Mandarin."

She shook her head. "_Why_ do you know Mandarin?"

He grinned. "I hung out at Mike's house after football practice last month and I picked it up from them."

She gaped at him, and apparently he could hear the breeze echoing in her open mouth because he added, "What? It's not like I'm fluent."

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**A/N: I know the science might be a little off, but there's a reason for it. Ugh, I hatehateHATE Finchel. I feel dirty now. I want to move on from this chapter as quickly as possible.**


	28. Chapter 27

**A/N: I've decided after seeing the promos for the Rocky Horror Glee Show that Finn needs to wear those glasses for the rest of his life. Because, now...he's sexy. I made a mistake when I had him decline Artie's offer to complete the nerd image earlier in the story. My apologies.

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_Chapter Twenty-Seven_

"This is depressing."

Kurt looked up from where he was sitting in the living room armchair doing his homework. Finn was slumped on the couch, doing nothing. "What's depressing?"

"I dunno, just the fact that I can't _do_ anything," Finn said, grimacing and fidgeting. "I'm bored."

Kurt sighed. Besides the obvious difficulties that went with Finn's illness, one of the toughest things to handle was simply keeping Finn occupied. Without being able to see, he had a hard enough time just finding his way around the house and spent the majority of his time just watching television. Or rather, in his case, listening to it. "Want me to read to you?"

Finn gave an uninterested shrug. Kurt guessed it was probably because, even after Finn's reading and processing speed had already slowed down exponentially, Kurt still read at a glacial pace compared to his stepbrother. "Nah, that's all right. Can you put the game on?"

"Sure." Kurt grabbed the remote and woke up the TV, switching to ESPN. "I will never understand the need for men to wear stirrup pants for any sport."

"Oh, come on," Finn protested. "They don't want their pants riding up their legs while they're playing. Drop the stirrup pants debate already."

"Hmph." Kurt tried to return his attention to his U.S. history textbook, but his mind refused to stay in one place. He really wished he knew of something else to do for Finn besides reading aloud or turning on the TV – he could tell that Finn was frustrated far beyond what he was willing to show, and it was killing Kurt to see him so unhappy. But without the simple everyday ability to see, their options had suddenly become very limited. Finn had even attempted to learn Braille, but his brain wasn't at its peak any longer, and it had taken him nearly a full day to memorize the alphabet before he'd gotten discouraged and given up, angrily saying that he'd be in a pine box before his efforts paid off.

"Hey, do you want to go to the park?" Kurt asked. "Just to get some fresh air?" It was a lame idea, but a lame idea was better than _no_ idea. And Finn _really_ needed to get out of the house.

"Finn?" Kurt said when he realized Finn hadn't responded. He was still sitting on the couch staring in the vague direction of the TV. Absolutely no change from before, and yet Kurt felt a tingling sensation in the back of his neck – something was off. "Finn," he repeated, setting his homework on the coffee table. "Are you awake?"

Again, Finn didn't answer. His hand lifted and flapped near his ear, as if he were swatting at an invisible fly.

Kurt immediately went over. "Finn, can you hear me?"

Finn's hand swatted again.

Kurt's heart picked up the pace. "Finn," he said loudly.

A muscle twitched in Finn's cheek and he swatted at nothing a third time. Kurt called his name again, rubbing his shoulders and sending a quick prayer skywards (yeah, he was an atheist, but a prayer every now and again couldn't hurt). Finn's arms moved, curling loosely around his torso like they were on puppet strings, his head twisting rigidly to the left. A tendon in his neck spasmed, pulling the corner of his mouth down, and a low noise like he was trying to swallow came from deep in his throat. Kurt's heart skipped several beats when Finn's chest began to shudder as his ribs opened and closed but no air went in.

"Come on, Finn, don't do this," he whispered, gripping Finn's shoulders.

Finn's face had just started to turn blue when the rest of his body began to shake, and if his eyes hadn't been paralyzed, they would've rolled back. Kurt could hear him choking on his own spit, and quickly but gently pushed him over so that he was lying on his side. Swallowing and trying desperately to stay calm, Kurt put his hands lightly on Finn's shoulder and twitching arm, talking to him even though he was pretty sure Finn couldn't hear him (and even if he could, he wouldn't remember).

"It's okay, Finn, you're okay, you're going to make it… Just hang in there, come on…"

Saliva began to drip from the corner of Finn's mouth onto the couch cushions, and the air hissed between his teeth as he drew short hiccups of breath, his face still blue. There was a noise that was half-crunching and half-grinding, and it took Kurt several moments to realize it was Finn's teeth grating against each other as his jaw rapidly clenched and unclenched.

"Come on, Finn, hang on—"

Finn's arm lashed out and struck Kurt in the chest, cutting him off, but Kurt didn't move from where he knelt. As he convulsed, Finn's lips pulled back over his gritting teeth, and there was a horrible moaning sound as what little air was in Finn's lungs was forcibly expelled.

"Just hold on a little bit longer…"

It seemed like ages before Finn's muscles began to slow their rapid contractions, his eyelids drooping but not closing, and the sound of his choking was replaced with vacuous groans every couple seconds as he dragged air into his lungs.

"That's it, Finn, breathe…" Kurt rubbed his shoulder, not noticing that he was inhaling and exhaling in time with his stepbrother. "Breathe…"

His eyelids still half-closed and still struggling to fill his lungs, Finn started to move, blindly trying to sit or stand up. "No, come on, Finn, lie down," Kurt coached, gently trying to push him back down. Finn gave a small moan of protest, still fumbling to set himself upright, his nostrils flaring as the color gradually returned to his face. Doing the only thing he could think of to keep Finn where he was, Kurt sat on the couch with him, pulling his stepbrother against his chest and wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

"That's it, just breathe… It's okay. It's going to be okay."

* * *

Kurt had only been sitting with Finn practically in his lap for five minutes when there was a knock on the front door. Carole had gone out to grab some groceries and Burt was in the shop wading through his many stacks of paperwork, so Kurt called "It's open" and hoped he wouldn't be forced to get up. Finn's upper half was starting to get heavy and Kurt was pretty sure his left leg was numb already, but he didn't want to leave Finn alone.

Thankfully, he heard the door open and shut and then tentative footsteps in the kitchen.

"I'm in here," he called. "Oh, hi, Quinn."

"Hey, Kurt," she gave a smile which quickly slid off her face when she saw that Kurt was holding a seemingly unconscious Finn. "Oh my God, is he okay?"

Kurt sighed. "He had a seizure a few minutes ago."

Quinn gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as she circled around the couch.

"I think he's okay now," Kurt assured her. "It'll probably be a little while before he comes around, though."

A pained look passed over Quinn's features, unlike anything Kurt had ever seen on her face before.

"You okay?"

She bit her lip, her worried gaze not wavering from Finn's vacant expression.

"You can sit if you want."

Still staring at her ex-boyfriend, Quinn sunk into the armchair, her posture tense and anxious. "How long will it be before he wakes up?"

Kurt shifted his leg, feeling the pins and needles beginning to stab into his shinbone. "Uh, I think maybe about fifteen, twenty minutes. Depends."

"Has he had more seizures since he stopped going to school?"

"Only one, on Wednesday night," Kurt answered. After Finn's sort-of date with Rachel, she'd eventually gone home around nine and then at nine-thirty Carole had found Finn convulsing on the kitchen floor. "According to the doctors, they're probably going to start happening more frequently."

Quinn swallowed, swiping at a couple tears that caught her off guard. "Sorry," she said quickly.

Kurt decided not to dwell on the fact that she was crying. "So…" he started lamely. "What brings you here?"

She sniffed. "Oh, I, uh…I came to see Finn. Wanted to talk to him."

"Would you like to stick around for a while?" He shrugged. "Maybe have dinner?"

"Yeah," she said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and forcing a smile. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

* * *

**A/N: After you review this chapter, I've posted a new story titled _Pieces of a Story _that will be the start of a brand-new Glee series that I'm very excited about. Don't worry, the _Unexpected_ series has NOT been abandoned, nor have I lost inspiration on it. Anywho, go read _Pieces of a Story_!**


	29. Chapter 28

**A/N: I've been listening to Mark Salling's 'Fugitive' pretty much on repeat for the last twenty-four hours. And holy shit, that man is a genius.

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**

_Chapter Twenty-Eight_

As Kurt had promised, Finn woke roughly fifteen minutes after Quinn had shown up. At first he was confused about the sudden gap in time, and then startled when he heard a girl's voice in the room.

"It's just Quinn," Kurt assured him quickly, helping him sit upright. "You want some water or something?"

"Quinn?" Finn echoed, his eyebrows furrowing. "What's she doing here?"

"I just wanted to see you," she said, making his head turn in the vague direction of where she sat.

"I'm going to go get you that glass of water," Kurt said, deciding to leave the two of them alone for a minute. He disappeared into the kitchen.

"So…what's going on?" Finn ventured once he heard Kurt's footsteps fade.

"Mind if I sit with you?"

"Sure. Can't see you either way."

Quinn watched him as she relocated, hoping that his eyes would suddenly begin to follow her movement, but they remained unfocused and frozen, staring off into the nonexistent distance. "Are you doing okay?" she asked, a hand on his shoulder.

"I wish people would stop asking me that."

Quinn drew her hand away.

He sighed. "Sorry. I get irritable sometimes. It's just kinda hard to deal with, you know?"

"Yeah."

He groped for her hand; she wrapped it around his fingers. "I'm fine, Quinn. Really."

She studied him for several seconds, and he must have been able to sense her staring at him because he began to fidget. "We haven't really talked," she eventually said. "You know, since…since Beth."

Finn said nothing.

"Look, Finn, what I did was stupid," she started, gripping his hand tighter. "It was idiotic, and selfish, and – and _cruel_. I don't know what I was thinking when I started that lie… I think that – that I was just scared of having to rely on Puck for the whole thing, a-and you…" She trailed off, her voice stretched. There were tears on her cheeks now, and she seemed to be struggling to keep her breathing even. She sighed in a weak attempt to compose herself. "You would have made a great dad, Finn," she said softly. "And I'm so, _so_ sorry."

Finn swallowed audibly. "You need to leave now."

The hope vanished from Quinn's face in an instant. "What?"

"Get out." He pulled his hand away from hers.

"Finn, what did I say? I just apologized—"

He interrupted her, his voice gravely. "If you were sorry, then why did you wait until now?"

Her mouth clamped shut, her eyes wide and afraid.

"Quinn, I have got one foot in the grave and this is the first time you've said you're sorry since I found out the truth about Beth. Tell me, were you ever going to apologize to me, or did it just occur to you that it'd be polite to do so after you found out I was gonna die?"

"Finn, I—"

"SHUT UP!" he yelled suddenly, making Quinn lurch to her feet, flinching away from him.

"Quinn? What's going on?" Kurt was standing in the doorway, his gaze wavering back and forth between the two of them.

"What's going on is that you made the mistake of letting the whore in."

Quinn froze, and Kurt's eyes widened. Had that really just come from Finn's mouth?

"Finn…" he breathed, at a complete loss for how to respond.

Quinn's lip was trembling and she was looking anywhere but at Finn. "I, uh…I'm gonna go."

"Quinn—" Kurt started.

"It's fine, I'll go," she muttered to herself as she brushed by him, her head hanging and her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. Kurt heard the front door open and close, and then a car pull out of the driveway. He sighed, turning back to his stepbrother.

"Finn, what happened?"

Finn abruptly stood up, nearly losing his balance as his shin banged into the coffee table. He swore loudly, bracing a hand against the top of the TV. Kurt rushed over to him. "Are you okay?" he asked, only to be smacked in the face as Finn blindly tried to keep him at a distance. "Ow!" he yelped.

"Just leave me alone."

Kurt resigned to stay at least two feet away from him, massaging his nose. "Finn, what's gotten into you? What were you fighting with Quinn about?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he growled.

"Oh, come on, Finn!" Kurt cried, exasperated. "That's not fair, you—"

"_JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!_" Finn screamed, slamming the heel of his hand into the TV, which caused it to topple off its stand and land on the floor with the piercing sounds of breaking glass and shattering plastic. Not waiting for Kurt to protest or argue, Finn stumbled towards the stairs, heading for the guest room. Too stunned to do anything else, Kurt watched as Finn felt his way along the wall and trip when he found the stairs. Pulling himself back up with an angry grunt, Finn used the railing to guide himself up to the second floor and out of Kurt's sight.

"Kurt?"

Kurt jumped and whipped around to see his dad standing in the doorway to the living room.

"Is everything okay? I heard shouting," he said, and then his eyes fell on the TV. Rather than be pissed off like Kurt half-expected he'd be, Burt only asked a simple, "Finn do that?"

Kurt nodded. "He – he just…blew up. I don't know what happened."

* * *

When Carole got home to find the TV wrecked and Kurt practically in tears, she was worried. Then, as her stepson told her what had happened while she was out, she was beyond terrified. Doing the first thing that came to her mind, she snatched the kitchen phone off its handle and called Columbus Mercy, dialing the extension for Dr. Rawlings' office.

"_Dr. Rawlings,_" he answered after a moment.

"It's Carole Hudson."

"_Oh, good afternoon, Ms. Hudson – is everything all right?_"

"Tell me what the hell is happening to my son."

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. "_Did he present any new symptoms?_"

Carole drew a long breath and forced herself not to scream at him, instead telling him what Kurt had relayed to her.

Rawlings sighed heavily. "_Ms. Hudson…your son's tumor isn't localized. It's in practically every part of his brain, which means that everything is affected._"

"You're saying that this is just a mood swing?"

"_I'm afraid not. He...well, he's quickly losing all the information that his brain has stored over the course of his life, including proper social responses._"

"What?"

"_His emotions are being blown out of proportion, Ms. Hudson. Something that might have annoyed him before the tumor's onset could now induce full-blown rage, and by now he's lost the parts of his brain that tell him what's emotionally appropriate._" Rawlings sighed again. "_I'm sorry, Ms. Hudson._"

Carole was silent as she worked to process what the doctor had just said. "You're telling me that by the time this is over, my son is going to have no idea how to interact normally with people?"

"_I'm sorry,_" Rawlings repeated.

"He's going to be socially inept?"

"_Look, Ms. Hudson,_" Rawlings started. "_What you need to remember is that regardless of how Finn may act as a result of this thing, he's your son and he loves you. I've dealt with a lot of terminal patients and I've seen many different ways of coping with this kind of thing. Finn is strong, and he's incredibly brave. So just keep in mind that, no matter how he acts or what he does, he is _your _son._"

Carole let out a shaky breath, swiping at her eyes.

"_I have a meeting in a couple minutes, but if there's anything – absolutely anything – else I can do, please let me know._"

"Okay. Thank you."

"_Goodbye, Ms. Hudson._"

* * *

**A/N: Please leave a review :)**


	30. Chapter 29

**A/N: The ONE thing I hate about not having a television is that I have to wait an extra day to see the Glee episodes and then watch them on Fox On Demand. So, if any of you slip me any spoilers about the Rocky Horror episode, I will pull a Samara Morgan and crawl through your computer screen to kill you. And if you read Kurt's _EtU_ installment, you know I'm capable of inflicting pain rather creatively.  
**

**That is all.

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**

_Chapter Twenty-Nine_

After Finn had blown up at Quinn, he began to show more obvious signs of rapid decline. The occasional seizure gave way to an almost routine, and he sometimes had two or three in a day. His dizzy spells began to come and go every couple of hours, and because of the nausea he found it hard to keep anything down, which meant his weight loss had only picked up the pace. Kurt was forced by homework buildup and Cheerios practice to continue going to school, so Burt did what he could for Finn (and, by extension, Carole) from eight to five, which really wasn't much other than helping his stepson find his way around the house, giving him a pot when he was about to throw up, staying with him through the convulsions, and trying not to upset him. He was like a firecracker – the smallest thing could set off a spark and have him screaming in rage or quietly fuming, and when he wasn't full-out pissed he was moody and depressed. Which, taking everything into consideration, wasn't at all unwarranted. Carole couldn't do much either besides hold his hand until he snapped at her to let go, he wasn't a baby. The three of them were wary around him, treading on eggshells and a little bit afraid to touch him, as if the slightest physical contact could make him break for good.

It was exhausting.

But out of everything – every tiny little thing that had changed in the last three months – the hardest one to deal with was the talking. It had started out subtle; little fumbles and trips of the tongue, a syllable dropped here and there. But within a week Finn was finding it difficult to remember vocabulary, whether it was a long word that usually only Kurt would use or a simple functional article, and his speaking slowed, which made him more frustrated every time he opened his mouth. They'd known Finn was dying since he came home from the hospital, but listening as his speaking abilities began to wane was the hammer that finally drove the nails home.

Kurt took over the job of cooking for Carole, since she rarely let Finn out of her sight (driving him crazy even though he couldn't actually see her), and that task in addition to homework, school, Cheerios practice, and Finn-care made Kurt more worn out than he'd been in a long time. He'd given up his nightly outfit-planning sessions in favor of keeping Finn busy and often just went to school in his Cheerios uniform rather than put in the effort required for his usual Banana Republic suave. Mercedes seemed to understand the reasons behind his lack of flair without them actually having to talk about it, which Kurt was incredibly grateful for, and almost seemed to be keeping her distance from him, as most of his energy went into worrying about Finn throughout the course of the school day.

"Kurt, is there anything I can do?" she'd asked him at lunch one day before Tina and Artie joined their table. "You know, to help?"

He sighed and squeezed her hand. "Thanks, 'Cedes. I don't think so."

That afternoon at Cheerios practice, Coach Sylvester pulled him out of the formation in the middle of a routine, giving the rest of the team exactly twenty seconds for a break before doing wind sprints around the gym.

"What's going on, Ladyface?"

The question startled him and he wasn't quite sure if he'd heard right. "Pardon me?"

"Look, you're a freakish kid who I'm afraid is going to burst into flames at any second, whether it be from using so many products in aerosol cans or your flaming homosexuality, and your voice makes you sound like you've been sucking on helium all day," Coach Sylvester began to rant. Kurt laced his hands behind his back and took it in stride, until she added, "—but you've got more talent and dedication in your pinky finger than any one of those girls currently running around the gym like rats in a maze have in their entire bodies."

Kurt blinked.

"And all of a sudden, you're not showing that talent and dedication," she continued. "You missed the back flip, your singing is off, and frankly, these mistakes are not worthy of a head cheerleader."

"I apologize, Ms. Sylvester," Kurt started. "It's just that—"

"Don't try to make excuses, lady. Listen," she braced her clipboard against her hip. "Gossip travels around this school faster than a fat guy heading for a dessert buffet, and even without the grapevine or Jacob Ben Israel, I'd know everything that was going on. So don't try to lie your way out of this and just say that you're tired from Glee club; Quinn already tried that, and I have cameras everywhere."

Kurt stared at her, at a loss for how to respond.

"I'm giving you a free pass, Hummel. Go home. Take care of your stepbrother. And don't come back until you're a hundred percent."

Still not quite processing that _Sue Sylvester_ was cutting him a break for emotional reasons, Kurt decided to run for it before she could change her mind. With a curt nod and a quick 'thank you', he snatched his bag and hightailed it out of the gym, heading for his car and then home.

When Kurt walked in the door, he wasn't surprised to find Rachel in the kitchen (she'd become a regular visitor since Finn had lost his sight, coming over nearly every afternoon once her obligations at school had finished), but he _was_ surprised to find her just pulling a sheet pan out of the oven. The entire house smelled like cookies.

"Are you baking?" he said in lieu of a greeting, dropping his bag on the counter island.

"My famous sugar cookies," she answered, using a spatula to scoop the various shapes onto a cooling rack. "Your stepmother let me use your cookie cutters, but all you had was Christmas ones, so they're seasonal rather than my usual stars. But they'll still taste good." She smiled over her shoulder at him.

"Oh." Kurt pulled one of his Odwalla protein drinks out of the fridge and sat on a stool at the counter island, watching Rachel whisk about the kitchen like she lived there, cleaning up the flour and other ingredients that had spilled on the counters while she was baking. "How's Finn?"

"He's okay, I think," she said, and at this point Kurt had known her for long enough to tell that the lighthearted tone she so stoically maintained had turned false.

"Did something happen?"

"No," she said. "Well, nothing out of the usual. He was having a seizure when I got here, but it didn't last long and he actually woke up pretty quickly."

"Where is he now?"

"He's upstairs. Carole's with him."

Kurt sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "He blew up again?"

She gave one-shoulder shrug, placing the mixing bowl in the sink and doing a final run-down over the counters with a sponge. "It's not his fault," she said simply. "Carole's with him now, but I thought it'd be best to give him some space. I am rather overbearing, after all."

"Oh, come on, Rachel," Kurt protested, a little too tired to actually be arguing with her but knowing that if he didn't she'd be sulking and sad, and Finn was more likely to yell at her again. "It's not your fault either and you know it."

She sighed, pouring herself a glass of water. "Thanks, Kurt."

"What did he say to you?"

She sat on a stool across from him, studying her hands. "He said, and I quote, 'Will you stop asking so many questions, and then this relationship might actually work for once'." She let out a little huff of breath, like she was trying to laugh it off.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," Kurt said quietly, and he meant it. "Carole explained why he's acting like this, though, right?"

"Actually, your dad did. I know he doesn't really understand that the things he's saying are offensive. But you're right – it's no more his fault than mine."

Kurt nodded, unsure of what he could say. It was obvious Rachel still wasn't convinced of her innocence in the situation.

"When do you suppose it'll happen?"

The question caught Kurt completely by surprise, and he nearly choked on his soy drink. "What?"

"Well, I mean, there's no point in pretending that Finn's going to be around for much longer," Rachel said, her voice trembling. Kurt could see that she was fighting tears. "When do you think he'll—" She caught herself and replaced what she was going to say with "—leave?"

Kurt exhaled slowly, battling a lump in his own throat. "I don't know, Rachel. I really don't."

A tear escaped from the corner of Rachel's eye. "Which do you think would be better?"

"What?"

"Do you think it'd be better if he were around longer or shorter?" she clarified, despite the fact that it looked like it was almost physically hurting her to phrase the question.

"I've been wondering that myself."

* * *

**A/N: Please leave a review! We're drawing closer to the end, but there's still a few more to go :)**


	31. Chapter 30

**A/N: Holy mackerel! Thirty chapters! This is officially my longest fic and probably will remain so for quite awhile.

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**

_Chapter Thirty_

Somehow, whether it was from some form of sympathy for Rachel or from a sudden feeling of pity for her, she and Kurt ended up hanging out together in Kurt's room. The air had _whooshed_ out of her lungs when she'd come down and seen what Finn had done to the walls.

"Sorry," Kurt said, sprinkling some food into the fish tank. "With everything that's been going on, we haven't had a chance to repaint yet."

"Finn did _all _this?"

"In the space of about six and a half hours."

"Wow," she whispered, hugging her chest as she leaned over to squint at some of the scribbles on the wall closest to her. "'_To confine our attention to terrestrial matters would be to limit the human spirit_'?" she read.

"Stephen Hawking," Kurt said, shrugging. "I read some of them too."

She shook her head in bewilderment. "God, how did Finn even _absorb_ all this?"

"I haven't the slightest idea beyond what the doctors told us, and even that is completely baffling," Kurt replied, sitting on the bed.

"Do you think we should go see if Finn's better now?"

"It's probably wiser that we don't," Kurt said. "If he's still angry then us checking up on him will only make him more pissed off. Let Carole handle it."

Rachel sighed, sinking onto Finn's desk chair and watching his fish idly swim back and forth. "I just feel so useless."

"We all do, Rachel," Kurt said softly. "Hell, I'm pretty sure that even Finn does. And whatever fear we're dealing with, he's probably got it double."

"I know, but I… I don't know how to act around him any more. It's like anything I say or do could either make him happy or it could put him on the warpath, and there's no consistency with how he might react."

"You're not alone."

Rachel stared at her hands, sniffling. "He hit me," she whispered.

Kurt sat bolt upright. "_What_?"

She hid her face in her hands, rapidly heading towards full-blown sobbing. "I just – just asked him if he – he needed help on the stairs, a-and he – he – he—" She was having difficulty getting the words out between shuddering gasps for air, so Kurt climbed off the bed and lightly gripped Rachel by her upper arms, speaking gently.

"Rachel, where did he hit you?"

She forced herself to exhale slowly, wiping her eyes and smearing her makeup and making herself look pathetic. Struggling to breathe without the air hitching in her chest, Rachel reached over and pulled her shirt down to expose her shoulder, where the skin had turned an ugly black and blue in a patch roughly the size of Kurt's palm.

"Oh, Jesus…" Kurt whispered. Finn had hit him too, but only by mistake. This was different. "You want some ice?"

She nodded, reminding Kurt of one of those wounded puppies that Rescue Ink had saved from evil animal abusers on National Geographic, and he went over to his mini-fridge to get her an icepack.

"Why do you have icepacks on hand in your bedroom?" Rachel asked as he held it against her injury.

"They prove useful when Karofsky and Azimio throw me into the lockers," Kurt responded offhandedly. "I've had my share of bruised shoulders as well."

"I'm sorry," she said, so quietly that Kurt wasn't sure if he'd heard her.

"For what?"

"I don't know, I just think that not even I have it quite so badly as you do."

"Thanks for that, Rachel," he said dryly, though his tone was closer to affectionate sarcasm than snark.

She managed a tiny smile. "I'm trying to be sympathetic here, Kurt."

"And you're doing a marvelous job of it. Please, continue." He flapped a hand.

"Well, I only get slushied or egged. They never lock me into port-a-potties or toss me in dumpsters or push me into the lockers…" She trailed off.

"Male roughhousing," Kurt shrugged. "Apparently it applies to me even though they repeatedly insist that I'm a girl. I only wish they'd make up their minds and possibly come up with something creative every once in a while." He adjusted the ice pack's position. "Feel better?"

She nodded, still sniffing. "Little bit. Thanks."

"No trouble whatsoever," he said, allowing her to hold it against the bruise herself. "Look, what Finn's going through right now… You _know_ he loves you, Rachel."

She sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily. "I know," she whispered. "I know."

"And I know that you and I have had our disagreements in the past, especially where Finn's concerned, but if I'm being honest?" Kurt waited for her to look over at him before continuing. "I could not imagine a better girl for him. Don't laugh; I'm being serious. Yes, you talk for hours on end. Yes, your personality is unnervingly abrasive, and yes, you have an unnatural affinity for stickers and the color pink. But you know what? Finn _loves_ that about you. And all those things that might bug people like myself and the other kids in Glee? Those are the things that keep Finn sane when he's stressed and motivated when he's tired and _appreciative_ when he feels like the world's out to get him."

Rachel was crying now – not sobbing like she'd been before, just quiet tears.

"And I know that Finn's not exactly himself right now…" Kurt pressed on. "But he's still here. And to some extent, he knows that you're here for him no matter what happens."

"You sound like Mr. Schue," was the only thing Rachel said.

"I find that offensive," Kurt replied smoothly. "Now, it's time for a quick makeup re-application. No stepbrother of mine is going to be dating a girl who looks like a raccoon."

* * *

Will wasn't sure if what he was doing was appropriate considering the rigid teacher-student boundary policies at McKinley, but he _was_ sure that he didn't really care. So, as a bitter early-December wind whipped at his clothes, Will didn't hesitate in knocking on the door to the Hummel-Hudson house. Burt answered the door fairly quickly.

"Oh," he said, his brows knitting together in surprise. "Schuester. What's up?"

"I, uh… I just thought I'd stop by," Will said awkwardly, his hands in his pockets. "See how Finn was doing. That all right?"

"Yeah, sure. Come on in." Burt stepped aside and allowed Will to pass into the kitchen.

"How is he?"

Burt sighed, shutting the door. "He's not doing too good," he replied solemnly. "But I think he'll be glad to see you. Come on." He gestured for Will to follow him towards the stairs leading up to the second floor.

"Where's Kurt?" Will asked conversationally as Burt climbed the steps.

"He's downstairs with Rachel," Burt answered. "She comes over a lot. Here we go." He knocked on the first door in the hallway, cracking it open and poking his head in. "Hey, Car, is it okay if Finn has a visitor?"

There were some quiet murmurs, and then the door opened the rest of the way. Finn was lying on his side, looking absolutely miserable, and his mother was sitting on the edge of the bed with a hand on his arm. "His stomach's not too happy right now," she said to Will, "so he has to stay horizontal, but you can talk." She managed to give him a smile.

"Thanks," Will said, edging into the room. He saw Finn's ear twitch slightly at the noise his shoes made on the floor. "Hey, buddy…" he started.

Finn's frowned at the sound of his teacher's voice. "Who're you?"

"It's Mr. Schue," Will clarified.

"…Who?"

* * *

**A/N: Please don't kill me.**


	32. Chapter 31

**A/N: I'm not a huge fan of the second half of this chapter, but I hope you guys like it :)**

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-One_

"Holy shit."

"Good morning to you too, Noah."

"Are you okay, dude?"

"Don't call me dude," Kurt snapped, dropping exhaustedly into his seat. The last place he wanted to be was stuck in first-period US History with Noah Puckerman. "And no, I'm not okay, because I have a dying stepbrother and I haven't slept since last Sunday."

"Uh, word of advice, dude?" Puck ventured, ignoring the eye roll from Kurt at 'dude'. "I know you're exhausted and shit, but don't take it out on me, man. I was just asking."

Kurt huffed. "Well, forgive me if I'm still a little pissed over the fact that you _knew_ Finn was dying and you thought it best to not tell his _family_!"

"He made me promise, Kurt," Puck said lowly. A muscle in his jaw clenched. "What kinda friend would I be if I went off and told everyone?"

"Oh, and this is coming from you?" Kurt laughed bitterly. "That is _rich,_ Puckerman. That is really rich."

"Don't you _fucking dare_." Puck leaned towards Kurt, his lip curling back.

"Excuse me, are you two finished?" the teacher cut in, eyeing them disapprovingly.

And something snapped in Kurt's brain. He was irritated and pissed off and scared and too goddamn _tired_ to deal with school and American History and Noah Fucking Puckerman when he should be at home, dealing with things that actually mattered. "Yeah, we're done," he bit out. And ignoring the weird looks the other kids in class were giving him, Kurt shoved his books into his bag and stormed out of the room.

"_Hey!_" came a harsh shout from behind him when he'd made it fifty feet down the corridor.

"What do you want, Puckerman?" Kurt forced through clenched teeth.

Puck's eyes were practically blazing with pure rage, and Kurt didn't think he'd ever seen anybody so angry. If he hadn't been more preoccupied with everything else that was currently pressuring him, Kurt would have been genuinely afraid for his life.

"Okay, I get that you're like, _totally_ fucked up right now, but guess what? So am I. In case you forgot, Finn's my _boy_. I've made some douchey moves toward him before, yeah, I'll admit that. But I can't _believe_ that you'd think even for a fucking second that I'm really _that_ awful of a guy that I'd _want_ to keep something like this a secret!" Puck was almost shouting now, backing Kurt up against the lockers.

"Pardon me for not trusting your _impeccable_ record of not being a selfish ass," Kurt retorted loudly.

Puck's arm whipped up and shoved Kurt backwards, _hard_. "Lemme ask you something, Hummel, before you keep on accusing me of whatever it is you're accusing me of," he snarled. "What the hellwould I have had to gain from not telling? Huh? How the _fuck_ would I benefit from that?"

Kurt was silent, every muscle in his body tense.

"That's what I thought," Puck hissed. "This is a new low for you, Hummel."

"Oh, _you're_ one to—"

"Don't. I'm not the one attacking people 'cause I'm too goddamn scared to deal with shit."

"I'M DEALING WITH IT!" Kurt screamed suddenly, surprising himself with the volume of his own voice. "I'm dealing with it every FUCKING minute of every FUCKING day! And where are you? You haven't seen Finn since he stopped coming to school! Did you know that his memory's failing? Did you know that he has _no idea_ who Mr. Schue is? No, you _didn't_, because even though Finn's your 'boy', YOU HAVEN'T SEEN HIM! So don't come to me and tell me that I'm not dealing with it, Puckerman!" Kurt's voice dropped to a normal level again, sounding gravelly and worn from shouting. "If you really care about Finn like you say you do, you should probably _act like it_ and see him before he forgets who you are."

Before Puck could respond, Kurt spun on his heel and marched off down the hall, leaving the jock stunned and not knowing what to do. So, the moment Kurt was out of sight, Puck did the first thing his impulses demanded – he pulled his fist back and drove it as hard as he could into the nearest locker.

* * *

When Kurt got home, he heard a terrible smashing sound from upstairs, quickly followed by Carole's shriek, only seconds after he'd dropped his bag on the kitchen counter. His heart diving into his stomach, he took the stairs two at a time to find Carole standing in the hall, looking terrified. There was another _crash_ from inside the guest room, and Carole flinched, staring with wide eyes through the door.

"Carole? What's going on?"

She turned, opening her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Burt's voice.

"Finn, come on, buddy! Put the bat down!"

Kurt gulped and stood next to his stepmother. "Oh, God…" he breathed.

Burt was currently standing off to the side of the room, hands outstretched and eyes wide as he tried to calm Finn down. Finn was blindly swinging his baseball bat through the air, attempting to hit anything he could as his hands shook and chest shuddered in pure rage. Kurt thought he could see tear tracks on Finn's face, but he was moving too fast to be able to tell for certain. The bed had been completely tipped over against the wall, and there was a splintered dent in the bureau. Glinting shards of metal were strewn across the carpet – the remnants of the mirror that had been hung on the wall by the bed. Burt leaped to the side as the tip of the bat came within inches of clipping him on the side of the head, instead smashing into the bureau again.

"What happened?" Kurt whispered.

Carole didn't answer as Burt yelled again for Finn to stop. "Finn! Finn, listen to me! You need to calm down, and—"

"_SHUT UP!_" Finn screamed, sending the bat repeatedly into the bureau, which was quickly turning into little more than fractured planks of wood, tiny slivers showering over the floor.

"F-Finn," Carole started, her voice shaking. "Finn, you _know_ we only want what's best for you—"

She was cut off as Finn whipped around, smashing the bat into the window. Kurt jumped, gripping Carole's hand, as Finn suddenly dropped the bat and began to yell in the vague direction of where Carole and Kurt stood. "You just wanna get rid of me! You can't handle having your CRAZY kid at home, and you're gonna put me in the hospital where I can just kick the bucket and not bother you!"

"No, Finn, don't say that—"

"WHY NOT?" he bellowed. "It's true! It's true, and you _know_ it! Now that you got Burt and Kurt, whaddoyou need me for? Huh? I'm just 'nother fucking _setback_."

"Stop it, Finn!" Carole cried.

"No, YOU stop it!" His voice cracked. "I've only got a couple more _days_, Mom! There's no point in _lying_ to me any more! Couple more days and I'll be outta your hair."

"Finn, _I'm your mother_," Carole insisted, stepping into the room. Finn was still breathing hard, his fists curling and uncurling at his sides, but he was no longer swinging the bat. Burt quietly picked it up and carried it into the hall out of Finn's reach, then standing next to Kurt as Carole continued to talk to her son. "I'm your _mother_," she repeated. "And I _love_ you. I would never want to get rid of you, no matter what you did or how you acted."

"Then why'd you say you wanted to take me back to the hospital?" Finn accused, his words stretched and thin. Kurt saw that he'd been right – there _were_ tear tracks on his cheeks.

"I never said I wanted to, Finn," Carole said, trying her hardest to stay calm. "I just thought… if there was anything they could do for you…"

"Come on," Burt whispered, pulling gently on Kurt's shoulder. "Let's leave them be." As quietly as they could, the two Hummels went back downstairs, each casting last anxious looks at mother and son before they disappeared.

Carole continued as if they hadn't left. She was only about a foot away from Finn now, and he was very slowly beginning to unclench. "I don't want you to live like this, Finn," she said softly, placing her hands on his arms. "Seeing you like this…angry and depressed…it's killing me. And I can't do anything about it. I just wanted to see if there was _something_," her words were choked off for a moment as she tried to regain her composure, "…if there was _anything_ we could do to make this easier for you."

The tendons in Finn's neck tensed for a moment. "Mom…" he started.

"Honey, all I want is for you to be happy," she continued. "That's all I've ever wanted."

"I'm scared."

"I know, honey. Me too."

* * *

**A/N: Leave a review and let me know how I did :)**


	33. Chapter 32

**A/N: First of all, apologies for the delay. Real life has been kicking my ass lately and Rube has been playing hard-to-get. I wish I could promise that the next chapter will be up sooner, but I really can't, so just know that I have NOT lost inspiration and I do know where this is going, so be it tomorrow or next week or next month, you WILL be able to read through the entire story.**

**Second, can we all just agree that 'Never Been Kissed' was the best episode of the entire show so far? MAJOR props to Max Adler. Also to Chris Colfer and Mark Salling (especially considering that Puck's outburst was quite similar to his freakout in his _Unexpected_ story - that made me happy), and to Darren Criss for just being awesome in general.**

**Or should I say super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot?

* * *

**

_Chapter Thirty-Two_

When Puck finally worked up the nerve to actually go to Kurt and Finn's house and ring the doorbell, he was greeted with the sight of a distraught Kurt. His hair was mussed and his clothes rumpled, and he had _definitely_ been crying not too long ago. Puck's heart dropped into his stomach.

"Did something happen?" he demanded, bypassing the usual 'hello'.

Kurt wiped his nose on his sleeve, sniffing and shaking his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. All things considered, Finn's fine. What are you doing here?"

"Came to see him. He up for it?"

"I think so," Kurt allowed, stepping to the side to let Puck into the house. "You want something to drink?"

"Nah, I'm good," Puck shifted from foot to foot, a little unnerved. "So…what happened?"

"What?"

"Dude, don't pretend you just randomly started crying from all the stress. You don't do that. What happened?"

Kurt sighed, not meeting Puck's eye. "Nothing, Puck. Leave it."

"No, seriously—"

"_Don't_."

Puck's jaw snapped shut, thrown off-guard by Kurt's low tone. Kurt's gaze had finally risen to challenge Puck's, perfectly level but full of warning. Something caught Puck's eye beneath Kurt's jaw line, and his eyes widened. "Finn do that to you?"

Kurt's hand flew up to his neck, pulling the scarf he was wearing closer to his chin (and it suddenly occurred to Puck that it was totally too warm in the house to be wearing a scarf at all). "It's none of your business, Puck. Leave it," he repeated.

"Fucking hell!" Puck snapped, just barely restraining himself from kicking over one of the kitchen stools. Kurt flinched. "Why do you have to be so high-and-mighty? It _is_ my business, 'cause Finn's my best friend, and if he hurt you, I got a right to know about it!"

"Why?" Kurt spat, and somehow it wasn't really a question. He sighed, his nostrils flaring as he pressed his lips together, smoothing his feathers as much as he could. "A bruise is a bruise; it doesn't matter how I got it."

"Yes, it—"

"_Stop_ it!" Kurt practically begged.

Puck clenched his jaw, still staring at the side of Kurt's neck. It was bad enough that Kurt had a bruise from Finn at all, but what little of the bruise Puck could see was shaped exactly like a finger.

"He tried to strangle you," Puck said quietly.

Kurt looked at the floor. "Please, Puck."

Letting out a _long_ breath, Puck shoved his hands into his pockets. "Fine. Where is he?"

Kurt's shoulders dropped, relieved at Puck's retreat. "Upstairs. First door on the left."

"Okay." Puck hesitantly passed the smaller boy, heading for the hallway.

He found Finn sitting up against the headboard of the bed, talking with his mom (one of the very few moms in the town that Puck had never hit on, because A) she was _Finn's_ mom and B) she was super badass, but nowhere near cougar material). He knocked on the doorframe, not missing how Finn's ears pricked at the sound, and Carole turned, frowning in surprise.

"Hi, Puck," she said, her voice light but her eyes searching. He knew she still hadn't forgiven him for the whole you-told-my-son-he-was-going-to-be-the-father-of-your-kid thing, even though he and Finn had made up a long time ago, but she was at least being civil. Which was generally a good sign (he thought, anyways – he was good with women on a physical level, not emotional).

"I, uh…came to see Finn," he said lamely, his gaze jumping from Carole to Finn and back. Finn's expression was blank, and it was making Puck anxious.

"Sure," Carole replied after a moment. She squeezed Finn's hand. "That okay, honey?"

Finn only shrugged, and Puck edged into the room as Carole stood up, giving him her seat. Once she was gone, Puck noticed that one of the windows was broken and had been covered with a cardboard panel, and that the bureau had been beaten almost into kindling, and his heart skipped a beat as he realized it had been Finn's doing.

"So, uh…" Puck ran a hand over his scalp. "How're you doing?" _Stupid,_ he thought, mentally smacking himself in the head.

"How do you think?" Finn said flatly.

Puck's eyes widened of their own accord. He didn't know what the tone in Finn's voice was, exactly, but it wasn't good and it _freaked him out_. "Right, sorry," he said hastily. "Dumb question." He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding looking at Finn's face even though he knew Finn couldn't see him. He exhaled heavily. "Sorry. I guess this is kind of it, huh?"

"Yeah, looks like."

Puck's fingers twisted around each other. After a long moment, he suddenly gave a hollow, empty laugh. "I'm really gonna fucking miss you, man."

The corner of Finn's mouth twitched very slightly. "Vice versa."

"Since when do you speak Latin?"

"Haven't you heard? I'm frikkin' Einstein."

Puck managed a half-smile. "Yeah…"

"Was that it?"

"Huh?"

"You came to talk to me," Finn stated, still with the same unsettling tone devoid of emotion. "Was that it?"

"I…I dunno, I didn't, like, plan this out or anything—"

"Get my mom," Finn said abruptly, cutting Puck off.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"Get my mom," he repeated, his body stiffening.

"Okay, okay." Puck jumped up from the chair and hurried to the top of the stairs, yelling for Carole, who immediately came running. She practically shoved him aside, making a beeline for Finn and grabbing his hand.

"I'm here, honey, I'm here," she said. "Is it happening again?"

Finn winced. "Yeah," he replied, his voice strained. His knuckled turned white around his mother's fingers.

"What's going on?" Puck asked.

Carole ignored his question and instead ordered him to come in and help her. "Get him on his side," she directed, pushing her son over by his shoulders. Puck quickly grabbed Finn's legs and angled them so they weren't hanging off the bed. "Thanks," she said breathlessly.

"What's going on?" Puck asked again.

Carole didn't answer right away, watching as Finn's grip on her hand slowly went slack and his body seemed to sink, like he was falling asleep. Eventually, without turning her gaze away from him, she said, "He can usually tell when he's going to have a seizure. I'm not sure how, but…" She trailed off.

"Shit," Puck swore under his breath.

She wiped at her eyes. "It'll probably be a minute or two before it really starts," she said quietly. "Thanks for helping me move him. He's, uh…he's been having trouble over the last couple of days."

"Trouble moving? On his own?" Puck wasn't sure why he'd asked to confirm that, since she didn't have to nod for him to understand what she'd meant. He swore again, not knowing what to say. He'd never been around dying people before, and he wasn't good with emotional stuff. He had zero experience and even less of a clue how to react to this kind of thing, so he just stood next to Carole until Finn started to twitch. And as he watching his friend's involuntary convulsions escalate rapidly and then die down after what seemed like hours, it finally, _really_ hit home.

Finn was self-destructing.

And he was taking everyone with him.

* * *

**A/N: Whew, lots of emotional stuff and more to come. Review! Oh, and you guys can follow me on Twitter now :) My Twitter name is Palolatte, or you could just click the link on my profile if you're feeling lazy. Which I know you are.**


	34. Chapter 33

_Chapter Thirty-Three_

It was sometime in the early morning when Burt woke up to the sound of Finn vomiting in the next room. Quickly and managing not to wake Carole, Burt jumped out of bed and was in Finn's room in under ten seconds. Finn was slumped over the side of the bed, his fingers curled tightly around the bunched-up blankets, and by some small miracle he'd managed to retch into the trash can that they kept by the bed.

"Hey, buddy," Burt said softly, placing a big hand on Finn's back. "Y'okay?"

Finn grimaced and spat the last of his stomach's contents into the can before lying back with a groan. Burt moved the can a few inches away so that he didn't have to stare at it.

"You want some Sprite or something?" Burt offered, sinking onto the bed by Finn's knees. "Settle your stomach?"

His stepson's face twisted into an expression of disgust. "No thanks," he slurred.

Burt's heart clenched. Finn wasn't his son, per se, but he was close enough, and to hear him unable to fully form most syllables was really fucking scary. Burt couldn't even fathom how he would handle it if this had happened to Kurt, and while he was wholeheartedly sympathetic to Carole, it was difficult to fully understand what she was going through.

"What time is it?" Finn asked.

Burt checked his watch. "It's…about one-thirty. You should try to get some sleep."

"All I do is sleep," Finn grumbled. "I'm not tired."

"Well, I'm gonna stay here 'til you do fall asleep," Burt said decisively. "I know I'm not great company, but you're stuck with me 'til the Sandman comes."

Finn huffed a small laugh, shifting his head on the pillow. "What time is it?"

Burt sighed. "About one-thirty," he repeated. Over the past few days, Finn's short-term memory had begun to sputter and choke like a dying engine, and he often found himself repeating things three or four times.

"I'm sorry."

Burt's head swiveled around quickly in shock. "For what?"

"For getting sick," Finn said, exhausted.

"Kiddo, this is _not_ your fault," Burt told him forcibly. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"I found the ring."

"What?"

The corner of Finn's mouth tugged up slightly. "In the garage, in your drawer. I found the ring."

Burt's eyebrows shot up. He'd bought an engagement ring months ago, hoping to go through with it and propose to Carole (because, honestly, he'd be an imbecile if he didn't – the woman was a goddamned superhero), but as soon as he'd worked up the courage to do so, Finn had ended up in the hospital and Burt's plans had gotten lost amongst the craziness. He'd hidden the ring in his work desk in the garage because he knew that it was the one place Carole would never stumble across it by mistake, even though it wasn't really a fitting place for important jewelry. It had never occurred to him that Finn might find it when he was juggling the shop's finances.

"I think you should do it."

"Huh?"

"You're not my dad," Finn said slowly. "But you might as well be. Mom needs someone good. So do it."

Burt squeezed Finn's shoulder. "I will, kid. I will."

"What time is it?"

A rock rose in Burt's throat. "One-thirty," he said again, giving Finn's shoulder another squeeze. "You sure you don't want something to settle your stomach?"

"No, I'm okay."

"I'm gonna stay here 'til you fall asleep."

"Okay."

Burt swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as Finn's eyes gradually closed. Finn was right – he should propose to Carole. But now wasn't the right time. Burt didn't care, though. He'd wait for as long as he had to.

* * *

Halfway through the school day, Puck decided he wasn't going to deal with it any more and he drove home. Thankfully, Sarah was in school and his mom was covering the afternoon shift at the hospital, and therefore he had the house to himself. So, as per his routine whenever he needed to work through emotional shit, he snatched two of his mom's beers from the fridge, went upstairs, and flopped down on his bed to stare at his ceiling.

Having absolutely no clue how to deal with knowing that his best friend was about to kick the bucket in a way that was probably going to rate close to a ten on the pain scale, Puck shocked himself by wondering what Berry would do (god _damn_ he had to learn how to block out her rants during Glee practices). He sighed. She'd probably make lists. Color-coded lists with stars and shit.

He swallowed a large gulp of beer and banged the back of his head lightly against the wall. _Fine_, he thought. _But I ain't writing this shit down._

Fact One: Finn was dying. He didn't know exactly when, but he knew it'd be within the week. No way Finn was going to survive many more seizures. Those things were fucking terrifying.

Fact Two: Finn was his best friend. As girly as it sounded, it was true and no amount of baby drama could ruin that for good. And when he really thought about it, Puck didn't _have_ any other friends besides. Mike and Matt were cool, sure, but they'd choose most of the other Glee kids' company over Puck's any day. Azimio? Hell, no. Karofsky? No fucking _way._

Fact Three: He wanted to see Finn again, but he wasn't sure if doing so would be intruding. Puck hadn't exactly been brought up with a lot of manners, but he'd had enough family shit to know that having non-family members around during times of crisis was annoying and exhausting.

Fact Four: He wanted to see Finn again.

Fact Five: He was _going_ to see Finn again. No way in hell his boy was gonna join the choir invisible without one last goodbye.

Fact Six: He was now onto his second beer, and he had to take a piss.

Rubbing his eyes wearily, he set the half-empty beer bottle on the bedside table and went to the bathroom, wondering what the hell he'd done to suddenly make himself so emotional.

God _damn_ it, he was a wuss.

As he finished emptying his bladder, he began to feel a headache blooming beneath the crown of his skull, though he wasn't sure whether it was from thinking so much or the beer. For now, he'd just pretend that he had a low alcohol tolerance and that it was actually the beer.

He filled a cup of water from the sink and rinsed out his dry mouth, popping two Advil for the headache and hoping they'd work. He downed the rest of the water and went to replace the Advil bottle on the shelf inside the mirror, and then stopped, swallowing as a frown crept across his face. Suddenly acutely aware of his heartbeat pulsing in his ears, Puck picked up an almost-full orange pill bottle from the bottom shelf, reading the label as his stomach rolled in his gut.

_Jean Puckerman: Take two tablets daily._

Fact Seven: Sleeping pills worked a hell of a lot faster than brain tumors.


	35. Chapter 34

_Chapter Thirty-Four_

Puck's heart was roaring in his ears as he rang the doorbell at Finn and Kurt's house, one sweaty hand clutching the pill bottle he'd stolen from his mom's medicine cabinet tightly in his pocket. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to change his mind and turn around, but his feet didn't move as he waited for someone to answer the door. After what felt like hours of agony, Kurt finally appeared.

"Puck? Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. I'm fine. Is Finn here?" _Dumb question, idiot._

Kurt frowned, studying him intently. "…Yes," he said slowly. "You want to see him?"

"Yeah, thanks," Puck said, forcing his brain to stop screaming at him to run the other way and just concentrate on what he was doing. Oh God, what _was_ he doing?

Kurt let him pass, a suspicious frown etched into his face. "You look freaked out. You need a glass of water?"

_Water. Water helps pills._ "Yeah. Thanks."

Still frowning, Kurt refrained from questioning Puck any further (thank God) and silently fetched a glass of water for him from the kitchen sink. While Kurt's back was turned, Puck forced his breathing into a smooth, steady rhythm. "How's he doing?" he managed to ask.

Kurt handed him the glass. "As well as can be expected."

"You're still wearing your scarf."

Kurt's hand immediately flew up and pulled the scarf upwards. "Well, black and blue aren't my colors."

"Right."

"How are _you_ doing?"

"Huh?"

"Puck, you look like you're about to faint," Kurt said flatly, one eyebrow rising. "Is everything okay? You know, besides the obvious?"

"Uh, yeah," Puck said, looking down at the floor and shoving one hand into his pocket, the other still gripping the glass. He shook his head. "Sorry, it's not my day. Finn awake?"

"He should be asleep right now, but he won't mind if you wake him up. His memory tends to lapse quite a bit, so don't be surprised if he forgets you're there once or twice."

"Okay, thanks," Puck said. "I'll, uh…I'll see you later, then."

"Sure." Kurt watched him go, still frowning in confusion, and after a few moments, tiptoed up the stairs after him.

* * *

"Finn? Hey, Finn. You awake?" Puck gently shook Finn's shoulder, sitting in the chair stationed next to the bed.

"No," Finn mumbled into the pillow. "Whaddyou want?"

"Come on, wake up, man," Puck urged. Finn huffed, his eyes finally opening slightly. Puck didn't think he'd ever get used to the sight of Finn's pupils constantly being large and unmoving. "Hey," he said when he thought Finn was awake.

"Puck?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"What're you doing here?" he slurred.

"I brought you something to help you sleep."

Finn frowned in thought for a second. "You woke me up," he started, "to give me sleep medicine?" He suddenly let out an unsettling, barking laugh. "That's messed up."

Puck flinched at Finn's abrupt cackle, then hastily gave an awkward chuckle in reply. "Yeah, well…call me crazy." He pulled the pill bottle out of his pocket and shook two out into his palm, then thought better of it and shook out two more. Finn was a big guy. "Here you go, man."

Finn held out his hand and Puck dropped the pills into his palm, then helped him sit up a little to swallow them. Finn grimaced. "Is there water?"

"Yeah, here," Puck said, handing him the glass.

Finn took a long gulp, a small amount of water spilling down his chin when he was done, though he didn't seem to notice. "Those were gross," he stated simply.

"You're telling me," Puck said, placing the glass of water back on the bedside table. "How're you feeling?"

Finn yawned, scratching behind his ear.

"Finn?"

"Huh?"

"I asked how you were feeling."

"Oh. Fine, I guess. Tired." He yawned again.

"Listen…" Puck started awkwardly. "I know you and me made up months ago, but I wanna say I'm sorry again."

Finn frowned, his eyes sliding shut, and Puck could tell he was falling asleep. "For what?" he mumbled.

"For what happened with Quinn."

"Who?"

Puck swallowed. "Never mind."

"You're weird."

"So are you," Puck retorted, though the response was more of a reflex than anything else. "Finn? You still awake?"

No answer.

Puck took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and shook Finn's shoulder again. "Come on, man, wake up."

Finn stirred, his eyes fluttering slightly.

"You awake?" Puck asked again.

"Puck?"

"Yeah."

"What're you doing here?"

Puck swallowed, remembering what Kurt had said about Finn's memory lapses. "I brought you something to help you sleep," he repeated.

"You woke me up to give me sleeping meds?" Finn laughed again, a harsh noise that made the hair on Puck's neck stand up. "That's dumb."

"Well, you know me," Puck said, shaking out five more pills into his palm. "Here." Again, he helped Finn sit up a little in order to chase the pills down with a gulp of water, and a few seconds later, he was asleep again. Puck shook his shoulder. "Finn? Wake up."

And so it went. Again and again, Puck woke Finn up, fed him four or five pills, and repeated the sequence. Over and over until the tiny orange bottle was nearly empty.

"Finn, wake up," Puck said.

Finn didn't move.

"Finn. Come on, man." Puck prodded his arm and shook his shoulder. "Finn?" His stomach twisting, he reached forward and felt the side of Finn's neck for a pulse. It was there, but faint and slow. Puck could feel its speed decreasing.

Hands trembling slightly, Puck stuffed the pill bottle back into his pocket and stood up, feeling dizzy and a little sick. Casting one final look over his shoulder at Finn, Puck forced himself to leave the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

He jumped when he found Kurt standing in the hall, his eyes red and tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

"You—" Puck started. "Did – did you hear—"

Kurt looked like he was physically in pain as he said, very softly, "Thank you."

Puck felt a rock press against the walls of his throat and he didn't speak. His heart pounding, he turned and quickly descended the stairs, all but running out of the house.


	36. Epilogue

**A/N: It's finally here, guys. The epilogue. I almost cried while writing this one, partly because I'm going to miss working on this thing :( I hope you all enjoy it!**

_

* * *

_

_Epilogue_

Will was halfway through a bottle of Sam Adams when there was a knock on his apartment door. He pulled himself off the couch and opened the door to find Puck standing awkwardly in the hallway.

"Hi, Puck," Will said, frowning at his student. Puck's face was pinched, almost like he was in physical pain. "You okay?"

Puck shifted from foot to foot. "Uh…yeah, I think so."

"Come on in." Will stood aside, and Puck hesitated for a second before brushing past him. "Is, uh…is there a reason you're here?"

Puck ran his palm over his scalp in agitation, and then produced an envelope out of his back pocket. "Finn wanted me to give you this."

Will frowned, taking it from Puck and turning it over in his hands. _To Mr. Schue_ was scrawled across the front of it. "This is your handwriting," Will said.

"I know, I, uh… I had to write it for him. It was right after he went blind."

"Oh. Right." Will studied the envelope for a second, then tore open the top. "Why don't you get yourself something to drink? Help yourself to anything but the beer." He thrust his head in the vague direction of the kitchen.

"Gimme _some_ credit, Mr. Schue," he heard Puck mutter as he walked by.

Will pulled out the contents of the envelope, unfolding the letter and squinting a little to read Puck's messy handwriting.

_I don't know exactly how long it'll be before you get this, Mr. Schue, but I just want to say thank you. Even though I never really tried to show it, I really loved being your student. And if I'm being honest (which I am, cause there's absolutely no reason to lie about anything at this point), I was thinking about going to college to be a teacher like you. I'm really, really grateful for what you did for me, and for all the other kids in Glee too. I'm not even sure you realize how much it meant. To all of us._

_Yesterday you guys all wrote a song for me. I'm sorry I didn't make it through the performance, but it was really special, and I needed it. And now I figure that maybe you guys could use something similar, so I wrote one for you in return. The sheet music and lyrics are on the next page, and I already talked to Puck about playing it with you like you did with Somewhere Over The Rainbow last year._

_I'm gonna stop it here because Puck's giving me a look and he thinks this sounds sappy._

"Mr. Schue? You okay, man?"

Will's head snapped up to see Puck standing in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a glass of water. "What? Yeah. I'm fine."

"Well…you're, like…crying," Puck said, shifting awkwardly.

Will brushed at his eyes hastily. "Sorry, I – I didn't notice," he stammered. He took a long breath. "Finn's gone?"

Puck nodded. "He died this afternoon."

Something flitted across Puck's face, but Will couldn't tell what it was and he decided not to question it. "Shit," was the only thing he said instead, swiping at his eyes again. "Sorry."

Puck shrugged. "We knew it was coming."

"Yeah, I guess we did."

"I don't think I'm going to school tomorrow."

Will sighed. "I don't blame you. God, rehearsal's going to be so strange now." He ran a hand through his hair. "The letter said Finn talked to you about the song?"

Puck nodded, gulping down the last of his glass of water. "Yeah. Read it; it's nice."

"I will, but…not right this second," Will said, dropping the letter and sheet music onto the coffee table. "When do you want to perform it?"

"Well, I'm guessing that Rachel and Kurt aren't going to school tomorrow either, and maybe one or two of the others, so…I guess, whenever everyone's back?"

Will nodded. "Yeah, okay. That sounds good."

Puck shifted his weight, unsure of what to do or say. For the first time since Will had met Puck, the kid looked completely and utterly lost. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Puck swallowed. "I just, uh… I thought that I was supposed to be the dude who died, you know?"

Will's brows snapped into a frown, caught off guard by Puck's statement. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's like…in – in the movies, it's always the good guy who gets sick and dies, but…" Puck's voice cracked slightly. "—but that's not how it's supposed to go in real life, is it? Aren't the bad guys supposed to be the ones who kick the bucket?"

The realization of what exactly Puck was saying slammed into Will with all the force of a bullet train, and he put his beer down on the coffee table. "Puck," he said firmly. "Look, I've made a _lot_ of mistakes in my life, and if there's one thing I've learned it's that fate…is _completely_ random. It's never determined by what you've done. It's _always_ up to chance. What happened to Finn was not the result of something anyone did – it was a freak occurrence, it was an accident. And you have _nothing_ to do with it. Understand? You are _not_ a bad guy."

Puck swallowed audibly, and he winced as if the action had physically pained him. "I'm, uh…I'm gonna go."

Will sighed. "Do you need a ride?"

"No, I have my truck."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Not meeting Will's eye, Puck shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and left.

* * *

Kurt sighed as he trudged down to his bedroom, a headache blooming underneath his skull. It had been a full day since the EMTs had carried Finn's body out of the house underneath a white sheet, and he'd avoided going downstairs until now. But now that he was here, it was sort of…anticlimactic. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, though. Crying, maybe, at seeing everything that Finn had done to the room? Whatever it was, he hadn't thought he'd feel quite this empty.

Rubbing his eyes exhaustedly (he hadn't slept in two days), Kurt went over to the fish tank and sprinkled some food into the water for the fish. "Sorry, guys," he said softly. "Looks like you belong to me now."

Mercedes swam up to the side of the tank, staring at him with wide eyes, her purple fins flowing in the water like hair.

"Don't give me that look, 'Cedes, it's not my choice either," he said, his voice cracking. He shook his head. "Not only am I talking to myself, but I'm talking to a fish as well. Wow, I need sleep."

Raking his fingers through his disheveled hair, he pulled off his clothes, turned off the light, and dropped into bed, praying for sleep. The room felt cold and vacant now that Finn was no longer in the house, though, and it unsettled him. He tossed and turned for over half an hour before rolling onto his side and just staring at the wall. His brain, desperate for _something_ to do, began to read some of the things that Finn had scrawled on the paneling (not all of which was legible). Most of what Finn had written was nonsensical – scraps of information that meant nothing unless they were partnered with other scraps of information that were probably on the other side of the room – but a few random sentences stuck out here and there.

"_There is a choice in life – one either grows or one decays._"

Was that what had happened to Finn? Had he started to grow but for a number of reasons, was unable to flourish? A tree couldn't live without room to stretch, after all.

Hm. Finn's expanding IQ must have rubbed off on Kurt more than he'd realized.

"_There is a larger universal reality of which we are all a part, and if you don't acknowledge that, then there is very little to live for_."

At that, a lump rose in Kurt's throat. Finn _had_ acknowledged it, and he'd died anyways. If the 'universal reality' was really that cruel, then Kurt didn't want to be a part of it.

* * *

Rachel's breath hung in the night air in front of her nose as she climbed out of her car, pink tote bag in tow. She shivered and wished that Finn was with her for the thousandth time since yesterday afternoon when she'd gotten the news. Here, in the midnight darkness of the Twin Lakes campground, Rachel had never felt so alone. She fought the urge to hum _On My Own_ under her breath – even though it was her birthday, this was _Finn_'s moment, and she wasn't about to cheapen it with her showbiz tendencies.

She shivered again and fumbled her way through the shadows to a picnic table by the shore of the half-frozen lake. There were no clouds and the Moon was absent, so the stars shone brightly against the black. The freezing air smelled faintly of pine needles and snow on its way down from Canada. Sitting on the picnic table bench and feeling the cold seep into her skin through her clothes, Rachel cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. The campground had been closed for the winter, and she didn't know what kind of security the place had. Her teeth chattering a little, she pulled out the pair of binoculars she'd borrowed from her dads, looking up to the sky and trying to locate Orion like Finn had shown her.

After several minutes of searching the horizon where she remembered the constellation was located, she finally recalled that stars changed positions relatively quickly (astronomy had never been a strong suit), and she scoured the rest of the sky until she spotted Orion hanging in the southern sky. Smiling and suddenly forgetting about how cold it was, she peered through the binoculars at the blank stretch of sky between Orion's stars until she spotted a feather-like brush of dark grey. Squinting through the lenses, her eyes slowly adjusted and before she knew it she was looking at a wispy cloud almost as large as the Sun. Reflexively, she gasped in amazement at just how _big_ it was.

"I see it, Finn!" she whispered. "I see it!"

She lowered the binoculars and just stared up at the sky as the stars twinkled silently. Far out in the lake she could hear the forming ice shifting and cracking, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness even further, more and more stars became visible until Rachel thought she was looking at an entire galaxy. Her gaze followed a path along a band of celestial cloud and she suddenly realized she was staring at the Milky Way.

"Wow…" she breathed.

Then an odd assembly of stars caught her eye close to the middle of the sky. The tiny pinpricks of light were arranged in a sort of lopsided W, and Rachel racked her brain for all the things Finn had rambled on about, trying to remember what it was. She _knew_ this.

"Cassiopeia!" she exclaimed, relieved that she'd recalled it. Then, as she studied the seemingly random blanket of stars, other shapes began to form in her sight and the names for those shapes rushed forth from her memories of Finn's excited rants about the night sky. She could see the Dippers, Taurus the Bull, and Andromeda. Pegasus flapped its wings. Draco twisted through the sky. Cygnus stretched its arms, and the two lovers clasped hands in Gemini.

Rachel let out a shaky breath, not realizing until then that there were tears in her eyes. She sniffed, watching the stars flicker.

"I miss you," she whispered.

* * *

Will couldn't help but think that even two weeks after Finn had passed away, the club still looked worse off than it ever had before. They'd just returned from Christmas break, and they all (well, Rachel, Puck, Quinn, and Kurt mainly) looked like they'd had shitty holidays. Everyone else was just depressed in general. Will worked up the courage to address them, taking a stand in the center of the room.

"Guys, I know we've had a really hard time the past few weeks," he started, his hands in his pockets. "There's really not a lot to say other than that I want you all to know it's going to get better eventually – we just have to hold on 'til then. But Puck and I have something that might help." He beckoned to Puck, who stood up and grabbed his guitar. "After you guys wrote and performed that song for Finn, he wrote one for you."

There was a tiny ripple of murmurs amongst the other kids as Puck and Will sat with their guitars, strumming a few chords to get them in tune.

"Ready?" Will asked. Puck nodded, and the two of them began to strum their instruments, their melodies weaving in and out of one another.

"_I'm a machine,_" Puck started, his voice smooth and soft. "_And it looks like I'm running out of gasoline._"

"_It's not too late,_" Will replied. "_I know there's habits that I can't break. But that's okay…_"

Together, they sang, "_The roads I've traveled would bend and burn, but always bring me back to you. My friends all say I've lost my way, so I'll keep on rolling through…_"

Surprisingly, Mercedes was the first one to start crying, and she reached over and gripped Kurt's hand as they listened, rigid in their seats, and Will began the second verse.

"_I am a dog, barking at the neighbors in the morning fog_…" he sang, closing his eyes as he focused on the strings of his guitar. "_Could you quiet down? I'm trying to sleep and move on to the next town._"

"_The people I meet and the friends I make, they treat me like I'm family,_" Puck cut in. "_It won't be long because before dawn, I'm gonna pack my things and leave._"

Rachel was the next one to start quietly crying, leaning on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt's only response was to lean his head on top of hers while maintaining his grasp on Mercedes' hand.

"_I have lost_," Puck sang, his voice rising slightly. "_I have lost my way…_"

"_I have lost my way,_" Will echoed before sinking into the last verse. "_I want to fly away…_"

"_But I got no wings, so I'll just walk away._"

"_I don't want any more…_"

"_I feel like I've been through this before, so long… So long._"

Once again, their voices joined up to sing the final chorus. "_I would like to believe I don't have to leave, but my welcome has been stayed. Don't look so sad, it's not that bad – I'll see you again some day._"

Rachel reached over and wordlessly held onto Quinn's hand.

"_Don't look so sad, it's not that bad. I'll see you again some day…_"

* * *

**A/N: Wow, it's over. I don't really know what to say, other than THANK YOU to everyone who's reviewed, favorite, alerted, and even just lurked. I hope you'll all check out the other stories in the _Expect The Unexpected _series, as well as my other Glee fics! As for the songs that the characters wrote, I will upload them to YouTube so you can hear them as soon as possible, and I'll post an author's note when they're up :) Thank you again, and don't forget to vote for your favorite _EtU_ installment in my poll!**


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